


The Odds of It

by a_wild



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10096979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wild/pseuds/a_wild
Summary: When Alexander and his son, Philip, are taking the same old subway ride home, Philip is left speechless when his current favorite rapper, Thomas Jefferson, strolls in and sits opposite them. From there, Philip's dream came true: his dad was actually, seriously texting Thomas Jefferson- but the road is bumpy from there as this new relationship forces not only Alexander and Thomas, but close friends John Laurens and Eliza Schuyler to face underlying issues between them all along. (I might edit this summary later, but I wanted to keep this as vague as possible to avoid spoilers)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! I'm writing as I go without a clear end in mind yet but with plot points in between. As of right now, there aren't any warnings archived, but I will add them in the future if they need to beeee.  
> Thanks for reading! :D

“Do you know how I knew that that was the right answer?”

Dark tired eyes still managed to show a glint of pride and joy when they focused back down on his son sat beside himself on the New York City subway.

“How?”

Puffy chestnut brown hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail, the excitable nine-year-old pulled his prescription-less glasses that were an exact match of his father’s own reading glasses down from where they were resting atop his head and brought up the screenshot he’d taken of the question- something Philip always did whenever he answered a trivia question correctly, and began to explain the principals of Socialism, when he was distracted and golden eyes went wide with wonder and shock.

 

Alexander peered up and towards who or what his son was gawking at and frowned when, opposite them, now sat a man wearing an oversized pair of over the head headphones, wild dark ringlets of hair shooting out in all directions around them. The man seemed completely at ease with his surroundings and, a moment after he had sat down after entering the subway, he had already rested his head back against the window and closed his eyes.

Discreetly tapping Philip on the shoulder to get his attention, Alexander bent down to whisper in his ear: “The first rule of the subway is to keep to yourself. Our stop will come in no time.” Expecting a look of relief, instead, Philip was grinning ear-to-ear.

“It’s _him_!” Scrambling for the phone in his lap, he closed out of the trivia game and went straight to the internet where he typed in the name ‘ _Thomas Jefferson_ ’ and, sure enough, up came a series of pictures of the very man sitting across from them on the otherwise quiet and empty subway car. Wasting no time, the boy tossed the phone into his father’s lap and dove straight into his father’s work bag, fishing out an arrangement of different colors of highlighters along with a beat up green notebook: “So he can choose his favorite color!” Phillip explained.

Hopping down from his seat, Alexander was quick to jolt forward and grab Phillip by the upper arm, his eyes reflecting worry. “Now, Philip, he’s trying to catch a moment of sleep.”

Smile falling immediately from both his lips and his eyes, Philip took one more look up at one of his favorite rap artists before allowing himself to be coaxed back to his seat. Still, he couldn’t pay attention to his trivia game and he stared shamelessly at the sleeping man, wringing his fingers as he waited for Thomas to wake up- hopefully before his and his father’s stop.

 

Philip’s prayers were answered when the rapper stirred, waking with a yawn and stretching his arms out. Once his focus was back in the present, the first thing he saw was a starry-eyed boy sitting at the edge of his seat, legs swinging above the floor. That kids so young recognized him never failed to surprise Thomas; moments like these made him feel a lot better about one of the contracts he had signed to allow censored versions of his albums to be released at certain retailers- a choice he received a lot of flak for from his peers. He himself knew how to cuss circles around a sailor at a young age if he wanted to, but, by the looks of this boy’s father: neat suit matched with a traditional tie; the only thing that, at first glance, Thomas could set aside as being different about this man was his long hair which he kept in a slightly disheveled ponytail, Thomas doubted the boy could use the word ‘crap’ let alone ‘fuck’.

“Long day?” the rapper offered, addressing Alexander in a distinctly Southern drawl.

“Yes!” Philip piped up, “I woke up at eight, then I put on my school clothes and took the bus to school! My mom made me my favorite packed lunch: macaroni and cheese!” Searching for brownie points, Philip had read the interviews, he knew Thomas’ favorite meal, “I had a substitute teacher in science class today and she let us watch cartoons about the earth forming! Then I went to recess and won a game of kickball!” All the while, Thomas gave Philip his full attention, interjecting with a couple of ‘wow’s and ‘cool’s. “Then, my dad got off work early to pick me up. Now he’s dropping me off at my mom’s! My mom and dad, this is my dad,” he pointed to Alexander, “are divorced! They went to court and have to share their time with me. I’m pretty popular, even my mommy’s sisters want days with me! Did you write a new album today? I love your new song! I know all of the words!”

When Jefferson was sure the boy was finished, he laughed and shook his head, wild curls swaying with him, “Sounds like you’ve got it made! Macaroni and cheese _and_ cartoons? Man, that’s my kind of day! Kid, enjoy it.”

 

Engaging eyes then connected with Alexander’s own and he flashed a big smile, “I didn’t write a new album today, but my creative partner James and I, we’re dropping a political track soon. We’re working on a series based on local politics going on all around us right here in the big apple.”

Now _that_ caught Alexander’s attention and he broke free of his stiff demeanor and opened up his posture, rolling his shoulders back and crossing one leg over the other. “You have a lot of material to pull from,” he remarked, “and there’s more coming. It’s been a nightmare.”

Interest piqued, Thomas ran his fingers through his sideburns, “What, are you in the middle of the storm?” Cracking another smile, he swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and crossed the hall separating Philip, Alexander and himself to take up the seat to the right of Alexander so that he could more easily hear. “You’re a politician?” the man looked like he’d struck an oil well, this was an opportunity; and, even still, he seemed sure of himself.

Cocking an eyebrow, Alexander pointedly glanced down at his legs: Thomas was sitting so close that his knees were jabbing into Alexander’s thigh. “I write bills,” he began, thrown for a loop when the rapper went from an easygoing conversationalist to an intense being. He could feel the mood shift when Thomas scoffed upon Alexander’s description of his job. “But, enough about me, do tell me just what you plan to shine light on first in your music.”

 Both men narrowed their eyes at one another and Philip glanced between the two, confused. “Politics aren’t allowed at the dinner table,” he piped up, “let’s keep them off the subway, too.”

“We’ll keep it civil,” Jefferson grinned over at Philip before nudging Alexander in the shoulder with a closed fist, “Me and my collaborator, we’ve got our sights on this financial mess going down. Taxes, they’re inevitable, but are we taxing the right people enough? The rich? But it’s not that dry, not that simple. We want to focus on the lower classes, boost them up to the middle. They’re not asking for a lot, just a step up! The lower class, they’ve got mud caked boots. Hear me out, Mr-“

“Alexander Hamilton,” the brunet answered.

“Hamilton. Hear me out: it’s hard to step up when you’re stuck to the ground, when it’s always raining. One day of sun and the mud dries and you’ve got yourself a better stride, a running start. That’s all they need, Hamilton. The ambition is there; it’s there in the farmers, the cooks, everybody!”

Impressed by the man he had only just heard of via Philip a half hour ago, Alexander was so engrossed in this turn of conversation that he hardly noticed the he was still being jabbed in the thigh. “You would like the new bill I’m working on,” he said, “but, at this point, my colleagues are busy thinking up new ways to block it… but, mark my words, it’s getting through. I’ve worked too damn hard for too damn long on it to watch them cut and paste my work into something unrecognizable again. They want a fight, I’ll bring the fight- I _am_ the fight!” anger boiling up higher in his chest with each word. Alexander was egged on by the ‘ _prove it_ ’ glint in Jefferson’s eyes. “I wrote my way out of my circumstances all my life, I’ll write my way to see this damn bill pass! I’ll write opinion pieces on it under pseudonyms, anything! And, this time, I’ll throw some terrible grammar in to throw them off! I’ll play dirty. If they want to drag my bill through the mud-“

“Then you’ll build a ring, jump right in. Leave your Sunday best at home and pull all the punches!” Jefferson interrupted and Alexander was on cloud nine.

“Alexander Hamilton,” he held out a hand, introducing himself properly, “and this is my son, Philip.”

Giving Alexander’s hand a firm shake, Thomas leaned forward to give Philip a shake, too. “Thomas Jefferson. Yo, this is my stop, but you should shoot me a text.” Digging a crisp white business card out from the stack held together by a rubber band in his bag, Thomas slid the card into Alexander’s hand. “I want to show you what I’m working on and you can show me that bill. Make it over coffee and I might just decide to roll out that music royalty money and cover it all.”

That cocky tone seemed more at home in Jefferson’s voice than the kinder but equally drawled out and lazy tone from before. Giving Alexander’s shoulder a rough squeeze as he stood to exit the subway car, Jefferson gave Philip a thumbs up and he quite literally sauntered towards the sliding doors before turning on the heel of his pitch black dress shoes to face Hamilton one more time before leaving, “Don’t stand me up. No shame in texting first,” and, with that, he left before Alexander could do anything but shake his head, baffled.

“Get over yourself!” he shouted after Jefferson as the doors slid closed.

 

Flustered, Alexander crumpled the card into a ball in his hand and shoved it into his messenger bag, “ _Celebrities_ ,” he said, irked, “he forgets that I would only be texting him first because I simply didn’t give him my own phone number!”

“Dad?”

“Yes, Philip?”

“Did you hear when he called me cool?”

Anger washing away, Alexander ruffled his son’s hair and smiled, “I couldn’t ask for a cooler kid.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck between the decision to shove Thomas' business card through the paper shredder or keep it on hand just in case, Alexander is thrown for a loop when a certain someone makes that decision for him.

Despite the subway ride from Eliza’s place to his shared apartment being about half the distance of the ride with Philip to Eliza’s, it felt twice as long; without his son there to keep him engaged in the present, Alexander was having trouble keeping his heavy lidded eyes open.

The lull of the subway car buzzing in his ears, the brunet yawned, eyes finally fluttering closed when he was startled awake by the phone in his pocket not buzzing once but three times in succession.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Alexander narrowed his eyes in confusion; he didn’t recognize the number. Swiping the screen open and typing in his four digit password, Alexander scrolled up to what looked to be the first text and began to read.

[ _Unknown Number_ ]: I get that a lot ;)

[ _Unknown Number_ ]: …Usually not so fast, but no need to be embarrassed, doll. There’s a first for everything.

[ _Unknown Number_ ]: But, really, you couldn’t just wait to confess over coffee? Alexander…

Then, another text appeared:

[ _Unknown Number_ ]: If it’s my money you’re after…

 

Flustered, Alexander was at a loss; how did Thomas get his number and what in the hell was he talking about? When three dots appeared again, indicating that Thomas was in the middle of typing out a fifth message, Alexander gulped, a thousand questions going through his mind as he scrolled back up to the first message only to realize, to his horror, that there were messages sent from his own phone above the texts from Thomas!

“No...” he whispered under his breath, continuing to scroll up with his thumb. So _that_ was what Philip was doing when he was ruffling through Alexander’s bag and using his phone while Alexander and Eliza had a brief discussion about their days, sharing a warm friendly hug before he had to leave to catch the subway home. The messages read:

 

 _[Alexander H.]:_ It was a pleasure to meet you! My son, you remember, Philip, and I had a lot of fun!

 _[Alexander H.]:_ Philip doesn’t like coffee, it’s a grownup drink. Would you like to meet me and my son at _Chuck E. Cheese_ instead? They have cheese.

 _[Alexander H.]:_ I really, really do love you and your work! Philip was right. I bought all your albums already. Well, good sir, have a good night! I trust that you will be thrilled by my invitation to _Chuck E. Cheese_! :)

If his face was pale of all color when he’d read the first message, his cheeks and ears were the brightest of red by the time he’d gotten to the last one.

 _[Unknown Number]:_ I can see that you’ve opened the messages, Alexander. Are you unable to text me back? Must we call?

 _[Unknown Number]:_ I have ten free minutes before James is home.

 _[Unknown Number]:_ Translation: you have ten minutes to redeem yourself and ask me out to somewhere other than _Chuck E. Cheese._

 _[Unknown Number]:_ Make that eight minutes.

 _[Unknown Number]:_ Seven minutes.

 _[Unknown Number]:_ Five, Alexander.

 

Exiting the subway, Hamilton rolled his dark brown eyes and pressed ‘call’ just as he received another text reading ‘Four’.

Speaking up the split second he heard the click of Thomas answering the phone, Alexander rushed through formalities:

“Yes, hello, Thomas, Mr. Jefferson. Alexander Hamilton.”

“I thought you would never call.”

“I would like to apologize on behalf of-“

Cut off mid-sentence by laughter coming from the other end, Jefferson nearly snorted, “You could have at least asked me to an _Olive Garden_ , sugar.”

Alexander’s stomach churned at the pet name. Nobody called him sugar and not just because he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t exactly sweet.

“If you would let me talk,”

“Sure, go ahead. Make it good.”

Grumbling, Alexander sighed, reaching the front door to his apartment complex.

“ _Hurry_! You’re three and a half minutes past the ten-minute window. James is getting impatient.”

“It wasn’t me texting you, it was my son. I had no idea, I was having a talk with my dear Eliza while he apparently decided to be sure I didn’t feed your business card to the paper shredder before we could spend an afternoon with a singing mouse.”

“Oh…” drawl tinged with disappointment, Thomas clicked his tongue at the back of his teeth, leaving Alexander to deal with a few moments of uncomfortable silence as he turned the key to get into his apartment. Frowning, he was disappointed to come home to an empty home for the fourth time that week, a note from his best friend John was pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Taking it down to glance it over, Alexander plopped his messenger bag down on the kitchen counter, momentarily forgetting that he was still on the line with Thomas until the Southern man cleared his throat impatiently.

“Sorry,” Alexander mumbled, “I was reading…”

“Multitasking while _I_ was generous enough to have answered your call?”

“John’s out again.”

“John?”

“My best friend… my roommate. This is the fourth time this week.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah. Look, Thomas, I have work to do, chores to get done, dinner to make. It was a pleasure to meet you, but, quite frankly, I am exhausted.”

“John’s not there, why not order in? That would take some work off of your shoulders.”

At a loss for words yet again, Alexander squinted ahead of himself: just who did this man think he was?

“Alexander? Are you still multitasking?”

“Thomas, I have to go.”

“Alexander?”

“ _What_?” There was a bite to the word.

“Figure out a better place to meet up by tomorrow- and don’t bring the mini me.”

“Philip will-“

“He’ll have his chance. Look, doll, I’m busy, but I always make time for my fans.”

 

God, this man was infuriating; Alexander felt himself roll his eyes for the millionth time that call. “Expect a text in an hour or so,” he said, and, with that, he pressed ‘end call’, tossing his phone over onto the couch before heading to the bedroom to change out of his suit and tie. “Celebrities…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In short: Alexander is so done.
> 
> Thanks for the comments on the chapter before this one! :D I'm glad that you guys like it so far, this story's been a lot of fun to write.

One minute short of an hour later, Alexander retrieved his phone from where he’d tossed it on the couch, confident as he walked the short distance back over to the open kitchen and hopped up onto the counter, ready to text Thomas his idea when he heard the distinct sound of keys at the front door. Careful to open the door with as little noise as possible as John always did whenever he came home at any time past nine at night in case Alexander was actually asleep, John beamed when he looked up to see Alexander in the kitchen.

 

“Hey, man, you would not believe what just went down!” pocketing his keys, John locked the door behind himself and joined Alexander in the kitchen, “Lafayette and I were at that new hole in the wall venue, the one next to that gay biker bar I accidentally dragged you into last summer, and guess who showed up?”

 

Not one to take the time to guess, Alexander pressed for the answer instead, “Who?”

 

“Aaron Burr!” Hazel eyes dancing, John leaned forward, palms resting on Alexander’s knees, “Guess who he was with?”

 

“Just tell me!” and, with that, Alexander’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it, wanting to hear the rest of his best friend’s story. Letting the anticipation build for a couple more seconds, John finally spoke: “Theodosia! His wife!”

 

Before Alexander could interrupt with a ‘ _ so _ ?’, John’s giddy laughter told him that there was more to the story, “Guess who else was there? Ok, ok, you don’t have to guess, I’ll just tell you: that guy! The guy she was with before Burr swept her off her feet! Lafayette was going to warn Burr and Theodosia, but the guy noticed them before we noticed him and he was one step ahead! Man, you should have seen the look on Burr’s face when the guy- what was his name, anyway? Whatever, you know,  _ the  _ guy, he was up on the stage in between the band’s sets all of a sudden! He was about to talk some shit when two security guards jumped up on stage and carried him out!” Voice getting louder with each new detail, John climbed up onto the counter beside Alexander, “I flirted some details out from one of the guards and they told me that the guy has tried to take the stage to go on rants about the venue’s ‘deplorable musical guests’ before” he explained, air quoting the security guard’s words, “so, when he saw Burr and Theodosia, he must have been planning to talk some shit about them, instead! Man, I would have paid big money to see that!”

 

“ _ John _ -”

 

“Come on! Just because you’re on mutual suit and tie terms with Burr now doesn’t mean _ I _ can’t still rag on him!” Winking, John peered down at the phone sat on the counter between them, “Who is the girl? Your phone has been blowing up since I got here! Need me to text her back for you? Lafayette said I have a way with words… he said that when I thanked the security guard for saving Burr from getting _ burr _ ned- get it?”

 

Eyes deadpanned, Alexander fought to keep a straight, unamused face, but John’s excitement was infectious and he just had to crack a small smile, “Not a chance, ami. Philip was texting  _ him  _ earlier, I don’t think he’d be very appreciative if anyone but me responded twice in a day.” Unlocking the phone’s screen, Alexander rolled his dark brown eyes upon skimming over the seven texts and tossed the phone over to John, “His name is Thomas and he thinks he’s some kind of royalty. And, correction: we are not dating. We met on the subway-” Scowling when John began to giggle, paying more attention to the texts than what Alexander was saying, he snatched the phone back from his best friend’s hands, “Again, we are  _ not  _ dating. I met him on the subway while taking Philip to Eliza’s. He’s a musician and Philip is quite fond of him and his work. I, personally, haven’t listened to any of his work, but, as it turns out, he has quite the ear for politics. We’re meeting up tomorrow to talk politics and, I’m guessing, his music. My intuition also says that we will be talking a lot about Thomas himself as he seems to me the type to enjoy that topic quite a bit.”

 

Smile turning down into a frown, John shrugged, “You always do this, Alex. Give the guy a chance. I remember the day you met Eliza, you told me that it was too good to be true and that she was going to turn out to be cocky once her money talked, but you were wrong. She was- she  _ is  _ great. Remember you thought Lafayette-”

 

“I never thought Lafayette was trying to set us up!” Alexander stressed, dragging his fingers down his face with his hands;  _ not this again. _

 

“Yes you did! Remember? It was that winter before we moved in together here and he was staying over through that snow storm! You thought he was getting up during the movie so often so we would be alone but he actually just really didn’t like the movie and didn’t want to break it to you that he doesn’t like every single French art film!”

 

And there his phone was, buzzing again. When he opened the message, he didn’t bother holding the screen away from John’s snooping gaze.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Either you’re the world’s worst texter or you’re asleep.

 

Scoffing, Alexander leaned his head back on the kitchen cabinets, “It’s fifteen minutes after ten. I told him I’d text him a location to meet up by ten. What do you think about  _ Starbucks _ ?”

 

“ _ Starbucks _ ?” Lips pursed in thought, the freckled male only needed a moment to come up with something better. “What about that art gallery down the street from Herc’s favorite Chinese restaurant? Hear me out: it’s a hole in the wall kind of place, but they have good coffee and the photography they’re showing off right now is based around the theme of today’s political climate. Hey, wait a minute! Philip knew the guy before you did? How popular is this Tho-” lips forming an ‘o’, John gasped, “You’re texting Thomas Jefferson? Thomas Jefferson is texting you?  _ You _ ? Thomas Jefferson is blowing up your phone?  _ Your  _ phone?”

 

Nudging John in the shoulder, Alexander sighed, “What, I’m not cool enough?” to which John responded by jumping down from the counter and throwing his arms up in the air, “We have to tell Laf and Herc!”

 

Shaking his head, Alexander was serious, “We are  _ not  _ telling Lafayette or Hercules. I don’t listen to his music or have a good gist of who he is, but, from the sound of it, you three do, and I don’t think it would be very kind to talk and gossip about Thomas when all we’re doing is meeting up to talk the bill I’m working on and the project he’s working on.  _ John _ , please.” Picking up his phone, Alexander began to type out a response, ignoring the way his best friend was pouting.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Meet me at Rochambeau.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : How about no.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Try again.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Starbucks.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : I meant to try asking me again; you’re supposed to be inviting me. Inviting! From the top.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Asshole.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Would your royal highness be willing to bless Rochambeau with your existence at exactly twelve noon tomorrow?

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Hm.

_ [Unknown Number] _ : I suppose.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : The world rejoices.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : You’re ruining it.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : So it took you an hour and fifteen minutes to get the courage to ask for my presence at Rochambeau?

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Don’t sweat it, I’ve waited days before.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : You?

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Believe it or not, yes, me.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : No, I meant you...wait? You gave a person a day to breathe between texts?

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : That’s more your style.

 

Invested in the conversation, John was back beside Alexander on the counter, chin resting on his shoulder, “Maybe you guys should meet in a public park instead. Anywhere where you can’t get kicked out for arguing.”

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : John’s home.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : ...And?

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : We’re going to watch a movie.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : The film isn’t about you, you wouldn’t find it interesting.

 

Sighing, John bit his lip, knowing that going into the ‘try not to accuse others so quickly’ speech clearly didn’t sink in.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : Rochambeau at noon.

  
_ [Unknown Number] _ : Goodnight, Alexander.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the day off today and decided to work on this next chapter! Thanks for reading! :D

Fiddling with his ring of keys, Alexander had arrived at Rochambeau a good half hour before noon, wanting to get settled in and comfortable with his surroundings before Jefferson showed up. Pocketing his keys, Alexander noted a few things: where the restroom was located in the case he needed to hide out and text John at any point during their meeting, where the emergency exit was in the case that he manage to embarrass himself to the point of it being considered an emergency, and the name of the featured artist whose work plastered the gallery’s walls so as to avoid the ‘ _ who? _ ’ question when their name was inevitably, possibly, brought up. Wooden chair creaking as Alexander leaned back, eying the ceiling as he passed the time daydreaming, he was only pulled out of his thoughts when a strong hand patted him on the shoulder and he sat forward, all four of the chair’s legs back on the floor. Turning around, he could have just died when, standing behind him, was none other than George Washington. “You cleaned up well after that meeting last night, son. I think we were all stretched thin and stressed. I pulled Mr. Burr aside afterward and he agreed that we should reschedule and allow your bill a fresh chance,” motioning towards the chair opposite Alexander around the small square shaped table, George smiled warmly, “Mind if I sit?”

 

Recollecting himself, Alexander nodded, sure that he had, upon catching sight of Mr. Washington, looked to be like a deer in headlights. “No, go ahead, sit.” About to jump at the opportunity to discuss his bill one on one with only Washington, a sort of ‘dinner table conversation’ which was popular amongst himself and his colleagues, Hamilton wasn’t blind to the small smile that hadn’t left Washington’s lips or the subtle wink he’d passed his way once he’d sat down. Mouth dry, Alexander shook his head, baffled, “What did John tell you?” He should have known that, when John faced the other way while texting, it was always because he was up to something. In this case, last night, it was gossiping to the one person who he knew would keep everything to themselves: Alexander’s adoptive father, George Washington himself. Ten years ago, just weeks before Alexander’s marriage to Eliza Schuyler, George had asked Alexander’s permission to submit the papers after Eliza and himself had discussed the adoption; their relationship never changed, always teetering between friendly and professional, never completely one or the other, but there was feeling of pride that welled inside of Alexander ever since, a pride he’d not experienced before. He loved being able to introduce one of New York City’s most beloved politicians as his father figure even if, when scraping the bottom of the barrel in search for rebuttals to use against him in arguments, it wasn’t uncommon for those he disagreed with politically to make joking remarks about it all.

 

Removing his hat and setting it down on the coat rack beside their table, George simply smiled, “Mr. Laurens told me that you would be here to discuss politics with a new friend of yours. Now, before you see me out, John expressed worry that you could get into an argument and put hundreds of dollars of one of a kind art in danger of coming into the crossfire of thrown cups of coffee, pieces of art that he doesn’t want to pick up hours at work to cover the price of.”

 

Scowling, it was now ten minutes to noon and Alexander knew that Thomas would be there any minute. Hiding his face in his palms, Alexander grumbled, “So,  _ what _ , you’re here as a referee? Mr. Washington, I’m an adult, I don’t need you here as a goddamned chaperone.”

 

“John seemed to think different- he sent me five frowny face emoticons in a row when I told him that today was my day off and that I intended to spend it reading and relaxing. That John, he-”

 

“Mr. Washington,” cutting him off, Alexander rubbed his eyes, the dark circles more pronounced than before, and then crossed his arms ahead of himself on the table, “John is under the impression that I have an interest in dating this man, Thomas Jefferson, but I am here to let you know that-” face paling when George looked up past his shoulder while he felt a presence looming behind himself, Alexander gulped.

“Let him know  _ what _ ?” Southern drawl tinged with glee, it was none other than Thomas Jefferson; just his luck. Pulling out the chair between Alexander and George, Thomas took the liberty to sit down. Holding out a hand towards George, there was a distinct hint of frustration beneath the charm he displayed and Alexander knew that he had to be wondering who it was Alexander was talking to. “Thomas Jefferson,” he shook George’s hand firmly, “though I suppose that goes without saying. You know, it’s rude to talk about people when they aren’t there to hear it.” It was said with a laugh, but there was a serious note to it, one that only seemed to settle down once Thomas had realized that he was meeting Alexander’s father; then, the mood turned confused and, despite himself, he felt a little bit intimidated. “George Washington, his father. Pleasure to meet you. I’m not a man of the arts, but I am a man who can appreciate fresh creativity when I see it and it just so happens that yourself and Alexander decided to visit the gallery today as well. But, I must be going, I have a full schedule today.” As Washington rose from his seat, Alexander sighed and tapped his feet nervously in thought.

 

“Already?” he offered, to Washington, who was doing him a big favor by leaving, ‘s surprise. “You can stay. Thomas, you don’t mind either, do you?” It was more of a statement than a genuine question of how Thomas felt , and Hamilton was ready to argue Washington into staying when George just laughed. “Already,” he confirmed, “I have to take the dog on a walk or she’s going to tear up the couch for the second time this month.” Putting his hat back on, Washington proceeded towards the door, burdened with the knowledge that he was going to be getting a lot more frowny faced emoticons from John in the next few minutes after the freckled man found out that he had left before anything happened, “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he waved to Thomas, then to Alexander, before leaving out the door.

 

Wasting no time on watching Washington leave, Thomas whipped his head around. He was sitting so close that dark curls nearly tangling themselves up in Alexander’s reading glasses atop his head as he did so; the taller of the two men raised his eyebrows teasingly, “Had to invite daddy dearest along? You were  _ that  _ nervous?” Sitting back, giving Alexander some space, Thomas ran a hand back through his hair, resting his other elbow across the back of his chair, hand resting on the top of Alexander’s own chair, “I don’t blame you, it is  _ me  _ we’re talking about.”

 

Not wanting to give Thomas the satisfaction of a defensive reaction, not even a well deserved eye roll, Alexander simply narrowed his eyes, quiet for a moment before turning his attention to the chalkboard menu to their right. “I don’t see a drink named after you yet, I think you still have a ways to go, Mr. Jefferson.”

 

“Touché.”

 

\-----

 

Four cups of coffee later and Alexander was buzzing. With the caffeine rushing through him and seemingly endless topics to talk and banter through to explore, the shorter male had put off the visit to the restroom to keep John updated for as he could until his phone buzzed and he excused himself. Shutting the door behind him, the restroom was as small as one would expect in a hole in the wall gallery; there wasn’t even a mirror above the graffiti covered sink. Pressing the ‘talk’ button to highlight his phone’s screen, Hamilton was shocked when the time across the screen read that it was almost five in the evening. Somehow he and Jefferson had been talking for almost five hours and they hadn’t even gotten through everything they’d planned to talk about- and they did plan as they went, Alexander having pulled a notebook out of the messenger bag he brought along everywhere, jotting down notes so that, when they constantly jumped from subject to subject, all they would have to do was look at the list to remember what they were talking about before they’d been distracted.

 

_ [John L.] _ : Did you kill him yet? What’s your bail?

Laughing to himself, Alexander was startled by a couple of harsh knocks on the door before he could type out a short response. “Occupied,” he responded, uncomfortably.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Surprisingly, no. We’re talking about the health care system and the importance of the arts in schools but we’re going to get back to talking about the bill soon. He’s so smart, John.

 

_ [John L.] _ : ???

 

_ [John L.] _ : Ok, I’m not surprised, this is you we’re talking about. 

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Hey! If Washington was still here, we’d be talking about his dog and gardening.

 

_ [John L.] _ : Yo, I bet Thomas loves him some gossip and Washington has dirt on everybody. I’m all in the know!

 

Just then, the knocking began again, this time a different knock. “ _ Alexander _ ?” it was Thomas and, rather than shouting at the door, he was speaking barely above a whisper, an awkward sense of concern in his voice, “It’s been fifteen minutes, there’s a line- are you okay in there? I ordered you a glass of lemon water.” It was no wonder Thomas was worried, he’d, a couple of times, pointed out the way Alexander shook under so much caffeine and talk.

 

Coughing into his hands as a response, a sign of proof of life, Alexander typed out a quick ‘got to go’ to John and ran the sink, pretending to be just washing his hands before shoving his phone in his pocket and opening the door, offering Thomas an apologetic smile, uncomfortably walking past the line of five people waiting on his and Thomas’ walk back to their table. As promised, the glass of ice water with a lemon pierced through the glass’ rim sat where his close to finished cup of coffee had been. Sitting down, he took a sip of the water, “Thank you.” Awkward shuffling, having been still affected by the annoyed stares thrown his way by the other gallery visitors in line, ceased when Alexander noticed his notebook missing from the table. Large brown eyes blown wide, he frowned, “ _ Thomas- _ someone swiped my notebook! Of course, luck has it that that was a brand new notebook, so nothing was lost except for our conversational notes, but... “ expression brightening up when he noticed his messenger bag safe with Jefferson who wore it over the shoulder and across the chest, “You were watching my bag,” he thought out loud, relieved.

 

“Watching,” Jefferson snickered, doing air quotes around the word, “I took a look through that little photo book you have in there while I was waiting for an eternity.” Before Alexander could scold him for ruffling through his belongings without asking, Jefferson was back in his bag, pulling out the little black photo book. Flipping open to pages one and two, Thomas looked over the photos for the fourth time; out of all of the photos, he’d gone back to those two a couple of times. Looking back at them was a photograph of a woman with long dark hair wearing a coral pink floor length sundress; the woman was practically beaming, posing in front of a vast body of water, the sunset painting the sky in warm, bright hues behind her. Next to that photograph, on page two, was a professional wedding photo featuring Alexander sliding the ring on that same woman from the first picture’s finger. “That’s Philip’s mother, hm?” he mused and Alexander nodded, pride in his voice as he responded, “Eliza. We spent a part of our honeymoon visiting her favorite beaches along the Chesapeake Bay.” Reaching forward to turn the page, Alexander shook his head with a laugh, “That’s a picture of the letter Eliza wrote me to tell me we were expecting. Notice the ‘I already told George, you’re coming home! :)’ at the end? I was working away from home at the time, but George relocated me back home in New York once again and I’ve been here ever since. Eliza… she’s a blessing.”

 

“Yeah, I bet.” Eyes not leaving the page, Thomas’ enthusiasm didn’t match Alexander’s as he took the liberty to flip to the next page. “Philip’s first day of school?” he asked and Alexander nodded, “He insisted on wearing his nice church suit. He came home with a chocolate milk stain on the bow tie and vowed to wear his play clothes to school next time. Eliza wasn’t too thrilled when he wanted to wear his hole in the knees jeans that next morning. We compromised with a pair of hole-less jeans and a t-shirt.” Taking another sip of water, Alexander shut the book before they’d even reached the halfway point. “So, Thomas, besides snooping through my shit, did you think of anything you wanted to ask me about my bill while I was away?”

 

“Actually, I didn’t. I was too busy taking in the art. My rating? Ehh. I think they could have gone bolder with the symbolism.” A yawn making it’s way into the end of Thomas’ response, he rested a hand on Alexander’s knee, “Let’s bounce.” And, before Hamilton could argue an ‘ _ already? _ ’, he stood, “I have something I want to show you.”

 

Following suit, Alexander left a couple of dollars for a tip on the table and looked up at Thomas who had strolled over to hold the door open for the shorter male. Once outside, Alexander shivered, forgetting about the bit of chill that was in the air even before he’d arrived at Rochambeau earlier that afternoon. “So-” he began, but, before he could ask where they were heading, Thomas was on the phone, draping his arm around Alexander’s shoulders. Glowering, the shorter male told himself that, if Jefferson wasn’t wearing his messenger bag and he didn’t like being able to keep a closer eye on the bag containing some of his most important work notes, he wouldn’t stand for being some kind of arm candy for the rapper who, once on the phone, seemed to have reined back in his cocky attitude in full force.

 

“Yeah, this is Thomas, who did you think it was? Yeah, yeah. Look, Jemmy, I need you to get up and open up the studio.” When Thomas proceeded to sigh as if he’d never been more inconvienenced in his entire life, Alexander had to laugh, “ _ Shh _ ! No, not  _ you _ , James, I’m talking to a friend. So, you can get to the studio in ten minutes flat? Thank you, Jemmy,” Southern drawl turned sweet, Thomas hung up the phone and the sweetness immediately turned salty and teasing. Giving Alexander’s shoulder a squeeze, Thomas smirked, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to break out the guitar and play you my rendition of ‘ _ Wonderwall _ ’ or pop in some demos.”

 

The reference to the song going over his head, Alexander shook his head, “Poor James,” to which Thomas blinked, surprised, “Hey, he lost the other set of keys, he can open the studio when I need him to. I have something there that you can take home with you tonight. Something Philip might appreciate.” Loosening his grip on Alexander’s shoulders, Thomas adjusted the glasses atop Alexander’s head that were a bit lopsided and smirked, “He can have a disk with a couple of unheard demos if he promises not to release them. Jemmy doesn’t need to know. He thinks it’s bad luck if anyone hears our songs before his grandmother.” Rolling dark eyes with a laugh, Thomas smiled, pulling Alexander in closer to his side when a bicyclist zoomed by them on the sidewalk.

 

Shivering, a gust of cold air passing them, Alexander rested his head back against the crook of Thomas’ arm, “You would make Philip’s day,” closing his eyes when another, stronger, gust of air came their way, Alexander felt his glasses being carefully taken off of their perch atop his head and a big beanie being pulled down over his head and his freezing ears. “Don’t bend my glasses,” he muttered, flustered as they turned the corner, finally out of the wind’s way and reaching what Hamilton could only assume was the studio when Thomas knocked on the door and turned to smirk down at Alexander, “You’ll like James, he’s got the charm where I lack it.” And, with that, the door opened slowly, with hesitance, and a man around Alexander’s height peeked through before he stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter the studio, but not before James stood before them expectantly, a bottle of hand sanitizer in one hand and a clean paper towel in the other.

“Just let him sanitize you,” Thomas nudged Alexander with a laugh, who received a ‘ _ you didn’t tell him yet? _ ’ look from James. The two seemed to be so close that they talked through looks, glances. Squirting a quarter sized amount of lime green hand sanitizer into Alexander’s and then Thomas’ open palms, James' soft voice was hardly audible over the loud, bumping beat in the background, “James Madison. I’m getting over a cold,” James explained to Alexander, “you don’t want to catch it. Other hand,” he motioned, and Alexander reached out, only to watch in amusement as James then followed Thomas around the studio, the two arguing over James having to now clean the entire studio over again because Thomas wouldn’t just give him his other hand. Instead, Thomas sauntered around the studio, waving James away, who looked like he was two seconds away from throwing in the towel for the day until Alexander came up from behind Thomas and grabbed him by the wrist. Giving up, Jefferson rolled his eyes and came to a stop, allowing Alexander to open up his balled up fist so that James could get him with the sanitizer.

 

Chuckling, James gave Alexander an appreciative smile and gave Thomas an extra squirt of the sanitizer before winking up at Jefferson whose expression lacked amusement, “Hey, Thomas, I like this guy!”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Clutching his messenger bag to his chest, having asked for it back after Thomas had taken it off while searching for an empty CD ROM to burn the promised song demos onto, Alexander was doing his best to keep James Madison’s attention occupied, as per Thomas’ request while he searched: a task that sounded a lot easier than it was done. Between James’ short answers to every question Alexander could come up with on the spot and the awkward silences where James simply smiled, waiting for Alexander to say something else, it was hard not to give Thomas away by peering over James’ shoulder for any sign that Thomas was ready to go.

 

Tapping his palms against the faux brown leather of the bag impatiently, Alexander was getting overheated with both the beanie and his coat still on and, to distract himself from the sudden reminder that Thomas still had his reading glasses somewhere on his person, that his glasses weren’t safe on top of his head, he focused back on James who had sat down at one of the small studio’s many desks and was fiddling with the wiring of a music making machine Alexander wasn’t familiar with. Tiny screwdriver balanced in his big hands, James worked carefully. “You can sit down,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the music, and Alexander took the seat beside him, watching as James cut wires at precise placements, all of this without having a manual of any kind open in front of him. By the time Thomas reappeared from the second half of the studio, Alexander actually wanted to stay, sure that James was just moments away from transforming this machine into something great; however, flattered by Hamilton’s confidence in him and his work, James broke the news that it’d be another four hours at least before it was back up and working.

 

Resting a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, Thomas pouted, “So I suppose this means we won’t be able to see it finished, hm?” to which James shook his head, put off by Thomas’ teasing, “Guess you won’t, Tom.” Inching away from Thomas’ hold on his shoulder, Alexander rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward to get a better look at the little screw James was screwing into the board, “Text me a video when it’s up and running?” he offered, genuinely wanting to hear the kinds of sounds this machine could create once James had worked his magic on it despite his not having anything to compare it to. “My phone’s over there, go ahead and put your number in,” James nodded his head towards the outlet a couple of feet away from where Alexander was sitting where the phone was charging. Reaching for it, Thomas grabbed it before Alexander could reach and handed it to him. Alexander didn’t miss the eye roll James gave his friend and, facing the other way, he could just imagine that Thomas probably rolled his eyes right back at him. Putting in his number and setting his name as ‘Alexander H.’, he hit ‘save’ before proceeding to send a text from James’ phone to his own so that he could have James’ number, too. “I texted myself from your phone,” he said, getting up from the chair to walk back over to the outlet and put James’ phone back on the charger, noticing the battery was only at fifteen percent. “Cool,” James smiled, rolling his shoulders back and setting the miniature screwdriver down and resting back in his chair, taking a break from hunching over the instrument, “You guys leaving already?” he asked, clearly bummed out, “It was nice having some company at the studio besides Thomas over there.”

 

Laughing, Alexander was about to sit back down, taking that as a sign that he wasn’t overstaying his welcome, but Thomas still looked more than ready to leave. “Funny,” the taller man scowled, arm finding it’s way back around Alexander’s shoulders, “but we have to go.”

 

Brows furrowing, Alexander pulled off the beanie he was wearing and passed a hand back through his hair, patting down the static, “Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked, looking up over his shoulder at Thomas. As far as he was concerned, he was going back home after this; if Thomas had somewhere to be, he didn’t see how that had much to do with him. Arm slipping down from Alexander’s shoulders, Thomas crossed his arms across his chest, “No, but  _ James  _ has work to do.” Frustrated when James gave a very unconvincing “ _ it’s true _ ” followed by a sarcastic smile as a response, Thomas reacted by fishing out the jewel case inside his jacket pocket that held the CD ROM with the burned demos and waving just noticeably in view. “What’s that?” James asked, purposefully trying not to sound too concerned, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was exactly what he thought it was. “Some demos,” Thomas drawled, smirking down at Alexander who looked up at him confused, maybe even betrayed; after all, they had gone down to the studio to get the demos when they could have stayed back at Rochambeau and had another cup of coffee, and now Thomas was risking him having to be a spectator outside of an argument between two musical collaborators, one whom Alexander was already told didn’t like anyone to have heard their demos before, for whatever reason, his grandmother heard them first. Rising from his seat, James pushed the chair out of his way and stood before Thomas, holding out a hand expectantly, “They’re not done.” he spoke flatly before he mirrored Thomas’ stance, crossing his own arms over his chest.

 

Feeling like he had uneven ground sitting while the two friends stood behind him, Alexander too stood, choosing to take the uncomfortable choice of pushing himself between the two men. “ _ Hey _ , break it up,” he snapped, temper flaring faster than he had expected it to, “Thomas, put it away. James, back up. If you two are going to duke it out, do it when I’m not around. I won’t take sides.  _ Thomas- _ ” Narrowing his eyes up at Thomas, looking him square in the face, he didn’t like how, although James had, for Alexander’s sake, backed up and given him some room, Thomas had, instead, taken a small step forward, defiant. “Break it up,” he repeated, voice unwavering. The next couple of seconds seemed to loom in the air, stifling silence only cut off by James’ coughing. Taking a slow, drawn out step back, Thomas smirked, holding out a hand past Alexander and over to James, “Call it a truce- this time.” And that was it. In a matter of seconds, James was back to work on the instrument and Thomas pocketed the CD; Alexander almost felt guilty with the knowledge of what was actually on the CD ROM, but that guilt settled by the all too eerily timed text he’d just received from Philip.

 

_ [My Sun] _ : I finished my sodoku book!!!!

 

Beaming down at his phone, Alexander forgot where he was momentarily while he responded:

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : High five! Ask your mother to order you the next level and we can figure one of the puzzles out together next week. Don’t forget to work on your English and French work, though. School first, Philip.

 

_ [My Sun] _ : Mom said I don’t have to practice today because it’s the weekend!

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Does your mother know that you have an English essay due monday?

 

_ [My Sun] _ : Yes! Gotta go. Aunt Angelica is taking me to the movies! Bye.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Have fun. Tell aunt Angelica that I said hello.

 

Clicking his phone off, Alexander huffed when he noticed both James and Thomas were trying to look onto his conversation, “I apologize, but that was my son and we do our best to respond to messages in a timely manner,” he smiled, still filled with pride; he had been the one to introduce Philip to the tricky puzzle game only a month ago, after all. “Philip is already leveling up in sodoku and he has only been casually, might I add, playing for a month.”

 

“Impressive,” James agreed, looking first to Alexander, then to Thomas who took the hint and nodded, “Impressive,” he chimed in. “Now, now that we’ve worked out our disagreement like adults,” Thomas began, and James had to bite his tongue not to laugh, “I would like to get going. Alexander?”

 

_ That  _ was a nice change from before. Had he been talked for rather than asked yet again, anyone who knew Hamilton well knew that he would have lost his cool. Pulling the black beanie back on and over his ears, ready to face the wind again, Alexander shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and smiled, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Madison.”

 

“James,” the man just barely shorter in height than Alexander himself corrected, “I’ll see you around.” And, with that, Thomas and James muttered a few “ _ We’re cool _ ,” “ _ We’re still cool _ ”’s between themselves, reassuring one another as Thomas and Alexander left the studio to face the winds that had only ended up picking up, becoming stronger while they had been in the safety of the brick walled studio. Curling in on himself, Alexander ducked down in a vain attempt at avoiding the wind, cursing himself for not bringing a scarf along like John had urged him to. “Thomas?” he gasped when the wind struck harsher than before and the taller male reached over to tuck Alexander back beside him and under the crook of his arm, but Alexander shook his head, “Hail a cab,” he shivered and Thomas called the attention of the first one he saw pass, thankful that the driver decided to pull over and wasn’t already on their way to pick someone else up.

 

\----

 

Ready to be home, to be somewhere quiet, Alexander and Thomas exchanged understanding glances and didn’t say a word during the ten minute cab ride, the driver’s music of choice, a classical violin piece, being played too loud to talk over. Hands clasped in his lap, Alexander watched the trees bend and stray newspapers fly through the air outside the cab’s window. Ready to pay the driver, Thomas beat him to it, and, once outside the cab, Hamilton waited for the cab to drive off before he pointed down the block, “I can walk you to the subway,” he offered, but Thomas shook his head, “It’s cold, go home, I can walk myself to the subway later.” Patting Alexander on the back, Alexander frowned, “ _ Later _ ? Thomas, I can’t invite you over. Not today, I didn’t ask John first. John might have plans and I promised to watch another movie with him tonight... “ Unamused by the puppy dog eyes Thomas was serving him, Alexander’s own eyes were deadpan, “If you want to come in and meet John, that’s fine, but, if he’s tired, you’re just going to have to leave. He had a long day today.” Thomas’ look unwavering, the rapper only nodding in response, Alexander scowled, “And that’s final!  _ Jesus _ .” Feeling only slightly sorry for using the lord’s name in vain, as Eliza had always been strictly against the expletive, he felt it justified this time. Leading the way to the apartment complex, Alexander typed out a quick text before they stepped into the lobby:

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : I’m home. He’s coming in, he wants to meet you. Nosy.

 

Shortening his sentences, he didn’t want to waste any of the time that John could use to get ready, whether he needed to put on a pair of pants or let him know that he didn’t want to meet him today before they arrived at his and John’s place. A staircase up and a couple of doors down and they arrived. Knocking twice before taking out his keys, Alexander was in the middle of twisting the doorknob when the door was pulled open from the other side. There, clad in a pair of green plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt stood John Laurens, his hair pulled up into messy bun atop his head. Hazel eyes were welcoming and he laughed, throwing his arms up in the air, “Hey, hey!” he called, stepping aside to let Alexander and Thomas in, “Welcome to  _ MTV Cribs _ !” laughing at his own joke, John held an arm out to point out the living room, “This is the couch where Alexander falls asleep writing, that’s the TV, and that, there, is my prized possession, an original  _ Gamecube _ system. Don’t even think of touching it.” The perfect host, Alexander felt comfortable now that John was running the show. “I’m John, but you already knew that,” he nudged Thomas with his elbow, “sit down! Do you want something to drink? We have orange soda, iced tea, hot tea,  _ Mountain Dew _ … gin? You name it.”

 

Accepting John’s insisting that he sit down, Thomas strolled over to the long, five person dark coffee brown couch and made himself comfortable, choosing the spot directly in the middle and crossing his legs, “I suppose I would… Alexander?” Over in the dining room, dropping his messenger bag down on the chair he always sat it on, Alexander peered over at Thomas, then to John who was waiting, expecting an answer, “Iced tea, but I can get it myself, John,” he said, but John shooed him away, the open floor plan of their apartment making it so that, from the kitchen, John could point Alexander, in the dining room, over towards the living room. “Let me be the host, man!” the freckled male teased, pressing a kiss to Alexander’s cheek before going to grab the jug of iced tea from the fridge, “Thomas? Did you decide?” he called over his shoulder as he poured the drink. Previously decided on a can of orange soda, Thomas changed his mind at last second: “A touch of gin, if you would.” While Alexander had avoided that option, John was all on board, cheering “Alright!” before pouring himself some as well and, all three glasses balanced in his hands, John made his way to the living room where he carefully set them down on the black wooden coffee table in front of the couch before sitting down to the left of Thomas, fluffing the pillows to his own left so as to block the spot beside himself, knowing Alexander would be glued to his side had he not. Passing John a look that said ‘ _ I saw that _ ’, Alexander went with his second choice, taking the spot to Jefferson’s right. 

 

Always one to show off, John drank half of the two shot drink in one shot before setting down his glass and rearranging the pillows so that he could lay back and rest, propping himself up with his elbows, “ _ So _ ,” he hinted, winking at his best friend, “Are you going to properly introduce me to Thomas here or what?” Cheeks flushed, Alexander glared at John, mouthing ‘ _ cut it out _ ’, but quick to hold his tongue when Thomas inched over closer to him and he felt Thomas’ arm find it’s way around him for what he now realized must have been the fifth, sixth time that day. He wasn’t surprised when, again, he was pressed flush to Thomas’ side. Blowing a stray lock of hair out and away from his face, Alexander tried to sit up straighter, tossing the beanie he was still wearing onto the coffee table while he, again, ran his hand back through his hair to fix it up, “This is Thomas,” he offered, and that was it. Sighing when he felt the hand that was previously just pressing into his side as if Thomas was expecting Alexander to scramble away was now idly carding through his hair, carefully untying his ponytail. Alexander leaned into the touch but his expression remained annoyed, stubborn, especially so when John finished his gin and sat back up, now kneeling on the couch beside Thomas. Alexander could have just died when John didn’t skip a beat in pointing to the spot just behind Alexander’s ear, “Try there,” he snickered, but, when his hand got too close to Thomas’, Thomas’ hand stilled and he cocked an eyebrow, “I know what I’m doing, thank you.”

 

And there was that same thick silence Alexander had experienced at the studio; frankly, he was tired of it. He’d dealt with it most days at work, he didn’t exactly have the patience for it when he was off the clock, too. “ _ Thomas _ , John was just messing around. Save the ego for your music,” he leaned back, urging the taller male to settle down and continue playing with his hair, but John wasn’t satisfied with the ‘Sorry’ Thomas offered him after Alexander’s interjection. Nose in the air, John sat back on his heels and didn’t say a word, just stared until both Thomas and Alexander blurted out a “ _ What _ ?” at the same time. 

 

Speaking to Thomas as if Alexander wasn’t sitting right there, John huffed, “Alexander is  _ my  _ best friend, _ I  _ know what I’m doing,” he said, parroting Thomas’ own words back at him, “Alexander is my best friend and I think we need to start over.  _ So _ . Go. Go ahead, start over.”

 

Baffled, Thomas’ hand stilled once more and Alexander nudged back against his fingers. “ _ What _ ?” he asked, which only fueled John’s fire. “You can start by trying the gin I took the time to get for you. Tell me why you think I should-”

 

“ _ John _ ,” Alexander interrupted, feeling so uncomfortable that, after a long day, what he would normally be able to stomach was making him queasy. Lips in a straight line, John studied Alexander’s expression for a moment before nodding, his demeanor softening as he sat back down, crossing his legs in front of himself and, after another moment, cooling down enough to give Thomas who, to Alexander’s surprise, was awfully quiet compared to their time at Rochambeau earlier that afternoon and even at the studio after that, a playful nudge. “Hey, you know what best friends are for. If I didn’t threaten anyone he brings home, what kind of friend would I be?” Resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder, John passed a hand through Alexander’s hair and gently cupped his jaw for just a moment before he sat back up and reached for Thomas’ glass, handing it to him, “Here, you’re going to need it to get through the movie I picked out for tonight: it’s so bad that it’s good! I like to watch it once a year to see if it gets worse, or, in cringe levels,  _ better  _ with time!” Laughing, John didn’t get up off of the couch until Thomas had finished his drink and he could refill their glasses.

 

“Don’t tell me… it’s not  _ Sharkboy and Lavagirl _ , is it?” Thomas cracked a smile, feeling like their dispute was far enough behind them to try to joke around a little bit. Hazel eyes lighting up, John came back to the couch, drinks in hand, ready to give Thomas a high five the second he set them down, “ _ Sharkboy and Lavagirl _ ! No, it’s not, but I wish it was now! Man, that one is great, but you need a good couple of years for that one to reach its full potential again. No, you  _ need  _ to see this one: It’s called  _ Blades of Glory _ !” Upon hearing the title of the movie they were to be watching, Alexander sighed dramatically, “Didn’t we just watch this?” to which John cracked up laughing, downing his second glass of gin, “I fell asleep halfway through! That doesn’t count!” Shaking his head, Thomas laid his head back, finally settling down, and moved his hand over to scratch just behind Alexander’s ear, the exact spot John had teasingly pointed out earlier.

 

Getting up to put in the DVD, John eyed Thomas on his way back to the couch and grinned ear to ear, “Taking my advice, I see?” Hopping down onto the couch, John kicked his feet up over both Thomas and Alexander’s laps because he would be damned if he had to risk playing third wheel during his favorite movie. Arching an eyebrow over his way, Thomas could have asked him just what he thought he was doing, but decided against it when, in response to his look, John inched over to rest his head lazily against Thomas’ shoulder, pressing ‘play’ on the remote. “Now, the beginning of the movie is really important! If you miss it, you’re not going to get some of the deep plot lines later on, so listen up!” John explained, directing all of their attention to the movie, “Also, no need to thank me, I already know I have great taste.” 

 

Turning up the volume as John preferred to watch his movies loud, it wasn’t long before Alexander had passed out, asleep against Thomas, only to wake up hours later on the couch with a blanket over himself, Thomas having left and John beside him, awake and working on a crossword puzzle. Sitting up with a yawn, Alexander pulled the blanket over and around his shoulders and sat up closer to John who, once he was sure Alexander was fully awake, set down the pen and crossword puzzle.  Tugging the blanket so that he could pull it over his own shoulders as well, John offered a small smile and Alexander blinked, his question answered when John spoke next: “Do you want to know what I thought of him? Of Thomas?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was my last day off in a while, so I decided to go on and write another chapter while I had an idea for what to happen next :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Flopping back down onto the couch, leaving John with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Alexander squinted up at the ceiling, “Maybe not right after waking up,” he sighed, answering John’s question of whether or not he wanted to hear John’s first impressions of Thomas. “If all you have are good things to say, I’ll be very surprised,” he raised an arm up, pointing up to the ceiling, “but, if all you have are bad things to say…” rolling over onto his side, Alexander grumbled, still not fully awake enough to form complete thoughts. “Sorry I missed the movie, did you and Thomas finish it? I’ll watch it with you again tonight if you didn’t… I could suffer through it and watch it on my own time to make up for it, too,” he yawned, dooming himself with the promise of sitting through the entire film. Tossing the blanket off of his own shoulders, John dragged himself over to the kitchen where the coffee was brewing and he drew the window shades closed, avoiding the sun. “I didn’t get much sleep,” John yawned; even so, he always managed to look better rested than Alexander who’s dark circles might as well be considered a permanent feature. “Thomas left two hours ago,” he explained, “we watched another movie after  _ Blades of Glory _ was over and then we stopped over at that bar I was telling you about the other day where Lafayette and I ran into Burr and Theodosia.” Setting out two cups, John poured the coffee and added in the sugar, eying the amount, “We didn’t talk for a good hour, he knew too many people there and I didn’t want to play the guy who takes pictures for people after they got their autographs.” Walking the coffee over, John handed Alexander his cup once he had sat up. “After an hour, the attention died down and it was just us and a couple of randoms who didn’t have to go home and get some sleep. We talked, it was  _ okay _ .”

 

Nodding, Alexander thanked John for the coffee, thinking over the story he’d been told. “It was just okay?” Setting the mug down, Alexander patted his hand around the couch, searching for the hair tie of his that Thomas had tossed aside the night before, tired of his hair falling into his face. Finding it in between two cushions, he fixed his hair into a ponytail.

 

Finishing his coffee, John strolled over to the kitchen to fill his cup again, “Just okay. He wasn’t so bad once the fans fucked off. Before that, though, that was some real funny shit. One of Thomas’ friends showed up and the guy started a fight with him right there in the bar! I thought they were going to be kicked out, but they didn’t throw any punches. Nah, it was awkward for me because the bartender thought I was his boyfriend. I had to have another beer after hearing that one,” John shook his head with a laugh, “Me?  _ His  _ boyfriend?” Plopping back down beside Alexander, John wrinkled his nose and pressed a kiss to his best friend’s cheek, “No offense.”

 

“Why would _ I _ be offended?” Taking the coffee cup out from John’s hands, Alexander narrowed his dark brown eyes at John from behind the cup, taking a sip, “I don’t think we’re on the same page. From the top: we agreed to meet at Rochambeau. Once at Rochambeau, we talked. Was it a date? No, we were talking serious matters. Everything was normal, all in a day’s conversation: it was work appropriate! Still, that man, that egotistical  _ you-know-what  _ was trying to trip me up! I was explaining one of my most successful of passed bills to him and, when he couldn’t find any more details to try to debate, he tried to use distraction tactics on me! You saw the way he had his damn hands on me, but I was on a roll and anyone there would be able to tell you that I proved my points.” Finishing his coffee, Alexander crossed his arms across his chest with a huff, “He can’t admit it when he’s wrong.”

 

“Sounds familiar,” John teased, hopping up off of the couch just as Alexander whipped his head towards him; while Alexander was ready to argue, John was giggling, “Okay, I’ll cut you some slack, you’re not as bad as he is. Close, but not as bad. Hey, do you want to know what he said about you?”

 

Rubbing his eyes with his hands, Alexander laid back down again, “Do I want to know? Is it going to make me throw out their album and block his number? He claimed we were on a date, didn’t he? Let me guess, he claimed I begged him for the album? Oh, and he played the next coming of Christ for getting the CD made as a surprise gift for a young fan?” The look on John’s face told him that he was right on the money. “Wow, that was good! You ought to be on TV telling people’s futures! If you got into that, maybe we could move into a bigger apartment,” he thought out loud, “He didn’t bring up who the CD was made for more than once, but he did tell me it was a date. He also told me that you were flirting with his friend when you were back at the studio, the one who showed up at the bar to start shit with him, but that guy told him that it was bullshit.  _ Man _ , it was a ride. I just sat in for it and waited for things to smooth over- I wasn’t about to waste my beer.”

 

Expression lacking any kind of amusement, Alexander fought to remain serious, but John’s teasing and the way he paused for comedic effect every couple of words so that the story could sink in was hard to ignore and so he had to break face and laugh, even if it was restricted laughter rather than John’s loud and free excitement. “That had better have been some good beer,” he chewed on his bottom lip in thought, “John, can I ask you something?”

 

Sitting down on the wooden coffee table in front of the couch, John nodded, “Shoot!”

 

“Do you think that he has something up his sleeve? He does have a new album in the works and he only gave me his business card with his phone number after he found out that I worked with the government… his work is largely political, John. What if he’s planning to use me for information? Information that would get him and James’ music even more exposure? It would be in the papers: ‘ _ Man Trusted With Government Secrets Spills them to Local Rapper _ ’.”

 

“You sound like a conspiracy theorist,” John smirked, but he seemed doubtful, “even if he has a plan in mind, you know you wouldn’t ever tell him anything that’s meant to be kept secret, man. What’s he going to do, hug it out of you? You’re the most stubborn person I know. Washington wouldn’t let you in on half of the stuff you know if he didn’t think you could keep your mouth shut when it counts.”

 

\-------

 

Two days later and Alexander Hamilton found himself calling in to work. Washington had picked up and let it slide before Alexander had even had the chance to explain why. Before hanging up, Washington had gone so far as to tell him that he didn’t want him to show up the next day, either, that he needed a break. Dumbfounded, Alexander had left that conversation wondering what he was going to do with that extra day when he didn’t have any kind of office work to look forward to. What would the office do without him? What if someone needed to reach him with an important question? It took a good half hour of pacing circles around the living room for Hamilton to take John’s advice: to chill out. “If anyone needs me, they have my number,” he reassured himself out loud before heading on his way out the door, “Text me in an hour if I don’t text you first,” he called to John before going on his way.

 

\-------

 

“This is the address,” Alexander spoke out loud to himself, coming up to the apartment complex’s front door and searching for the right doorbell. Scowling, he put on his reading glasses and, even still, he had a hard time finding the right one. For such a fancy building, they didn’t put much care into keeping the number plates new and legible. Finding the right one at last, Alexander waited a good ten minutes before Thomas was at the door.

 

“You came after all!” God, in the two days they’d had apart, including a lack of text messages, Alexander had forgotten how much he hated the guy. Big smile plastered across Thomas’ face, Alexander could just grab him by the collar right now if he hadn’t been taught to chill out and count to ten by his boss, George Washington himself, after he’d gotten himself into trouble one too many times during heated meetings. 

 

“You invited me,” he responded, tone flat, “are you going to let me in or do I have to wait another ten minutes?”

 

Shaking his head, Alexander’s attitude hit Thomas straight in the funny bone and he stepped aside, the obnoxious magenta floor length robe he was wearing swooshing just above the white floor tiles, “It takes time to look this good,” he smirked, leading the way to the elevator, which had Alexander dropping his jaw: “If there is an elevator, why did you make me wait while you descended fifteen staircases!”

 

Waiting for the elevator’s doors to open, Jefferson threw his hands up in mock annoyance, “Do you see what I’m wearing? I spent good money on this robe and I intend to wear it out when I can! This beauty isn’t meant to be confined to my place and the short walk to the elevator! And, before you ask, the elderly woman on level four with the diamond infused in one of her teeth said that I looked  _ stunning _ .”

 

Slipping past Thomas to get into the elevator first once it’s doors had opened, Alexander was wondering why the taller male had passed him a look once the doors had closed until it occurred to him that, when he could have taken the stairs, he’d instead chosen to be stuck in an elevator with Thomas for an entire fifteen stops; even worse, this was the only elevator he’d ever been on that seemed to stop every few floors and open it’s doors as if someone had pressed the button to board.

 

“ _ What? _ ”

“Nothing.”

 

“Just spit it out!  _ What _ ?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Thomas made a show of bending over, hands on his hips to emphasize their noticeable height difference. Alexander had played in that game before and was more annoyed than offended or genuinely angry; he’d have to try harder than that if he actually wanted a fight. And Alexander seemed to always jump to the conclusion that there was a fight in the cards. “Nothing! Calm down, doll, we have work to do. I have some notes I’d like you to look over while I get ready for the day.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Alexander kept his eyes away from Thomas and on the elevator’s number board, watching the light jump from floor to floor, “Might I remind you that it is nearly four in the afternoon and you are still in your robe.”

 

“My very expensive robe,” Jefferson corrected him just as they, after what felt like years to Hamilton, arrived on the fifteenth floor. 

 

\------

 

Seated on Thomas’ black leather couch, Hamilton surrounded himself with the five notebooks he’d been handed, each one opened to a different page. Trying to find some sense in the scribblings before eventually admitting that he didn’t see the genius in any of it, Alexander pulled out his own notebook and began to copy down portions of the entries, using highlighter markers to label any words he felt were particularly important. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a hairdryer and Alexander bit at the end of his pen, trying to concentrate back on his work, but all he could think about was how Thomas said he was going to hurry up yet he clearly had just gotten out of the shower. Clicking the pen open and closed, Alexander continued to scribble down portions of the entries and, before he knew it, time had gone by and Thomas had surprised him by slipping down onto the couch, sitting beside him. Startled, Alexander’s pen flew out of his hand and rolled across the cherry brown wooden floor. Leaving the pen to be retrieved later, flustered, Alexander dug another one out of his bag and handed his notebook over to Thomas. “I tried to make sense of all of this and this is what I have so far.”

 

Taking a look at Alexander’s notes, Thomas furrowed his dark eyebrows and peered over at the man beside him who was patiently waiting for his response, “You rewrote my lyrics?”

 

“Those were lyrics?” reaching over Thomas’ lap to retrieve the orange notebook, Alexander flipped through it’s pages to find the one he’d dogeared, “If these are all lyrics, then what is that? This page in particular sent me for a loop. What’s with the random, pasted in pieces of paper? Are these all supposed to go together?”

 

Tapping his feet impatiently as Alexander critiqued his work, Thomas snatched the orange notebook from Alexander’s hands, “It’s called ideas,  _ dear _ .Bits and pieces to use later on! I wasn’t asking you to proofread my work, I was asking you to remove all of the pages and place them, in order, into that three ringed binder right there,” he pointed to the magenta binder sitting atop the nearby black leather ottoman. Squinting up at Thomas, Alexander pushed his glasses back up atop his head, “Excuse me,  _ doll _ ,” tone biting, “but I am not your damn secretary.” Scrunching up his nose, Alexander didn’t like how the pet name he’d used mockingly had made the rapper smile. “I know, and it really is too bad,” Jefferson pouted, swiping Alexander’s reading glasses and putting them on, “wow,” he drawled, laughing, “you wear these for fashion, don’t you? Woah! Nevermind! I looked this way and,  _ bam _ ! Out of focus!” Batting Alexander’s hand away, Thomas wasn’t done, “You look better when I’m not wearing these,” he noted, to which Alexander responded that that was because they weren’t made for him to be wearing.

 

Concerned for his notebook and whether it’d gotten bent up, Alexander wasn’t paying attention to Thomas, in the process of putting the book away in his bag, when long legs had swung themselves over him so that Thomas was kneeling on either side of him, sitting back on Alexander’s knees. “But, I suppose it’s not so bad now that I have a closer look,” the taller male winked and Alexander wished he’d missed that. “I’m not your damn secretary,” he repeated, hoping Jefferson would tire of the teasing soon or, if he wasn’t planning to move any time soon, to, at least, return his glasses. “You could be. Throw in the government towel and get in the rap game,” Jefferson smiled softly and Alexander understood why interviewers tended to paint him as kind and thoughtful, he could pass the part when he wanted to; despite it being the complete opposite of his own personal career goals, Jefferson had still managed to make it sound good. “That’s what I did,” Jefferson continued. Getting a headache from wearing Alexander’s glasses, he set them back atop his head and clicked his tongue at the back of his teeth in thought, “I was a lawyer before I decided to pursue my art and put in my resignation letters.”

 

Surprised that, despite their last conversation lasting well into the evening, Jefferson had not once brought up his work as a lawyer, Alexander was skeptical, yet it all started to make sense; Jefferson caught on to his legal talk without problem not just because he was familiar with politics and law, but because he too had studied and worked in the field at one point. “That’s quite interesting,” he acknowledged, “I’m sure a background in law gives you an upper hand in dealing with the music business; you’re your own lawyer,” Alexander mused. “You got it, doll,” Thomas spoke, voice even and lacking the ego Alexander came to expect. 

 

\----

 

Nearly dropping the bottle of water in his hand, John’s jaw dropped and he set the bottle safely down on the kitchen counter, coming to join Alexander in the dining room who had began to rant, large eyes looking even bigger, the split second he entered the apartment, “He told you he used to be a lawyer, you guys talked law and-” John started, trying to make sense of what was going on.

 

Pulling out a chair around the kitchen table, Alexander sat down and blinked up at John, “and  _ I kissed him _ .”


	7. Chapter 7

“Alexander, you look terrible, have you slept?” Concerned, Eliza welcomed Hamilton into her home; with Philip away at school, she had been taking advantage of her couple of hours of free time planning a future girl’s night out with her sisters when she received a call from her ex-husband. Picking up and organizing the magazines scattered across the dining room table, Eliza made room for herself and Alexander to sit down and talk. Helping to pick up the magazines that were out of reach, Alexander smiled, “You could write for these,” to which Eliza shook her head modestly: “I can make a mean flower arrangement, but I’m no Martha Stewart… yet. Go ahead, sit down.”

 

Taking her invitation, Alexander took a seat at the table and took a deep breath: he’d made it this far, it wasn’t like him to consider holding his tongue at all, yet alone when he’d already asked Eliza for her time. Sitting down beside him, Eliza clasped her hands on the table in front of herself, patiently waiting, “There’s nothing you can say that would have me seeing you out immediately,” she smiled, but Alexander could see the hints of worry in her eyes and he wondered if John was right when he said that this wasn’t a conversation he should be having with his ex-wife.

 

Rolling his shoulders back, Alexander decided, in that moment, that the only way to have this conversation was to approach it in a business-like manner. Placing a hand over Eliza’s own, he narrowed his eyes and was about to speak when he was interrupted by Eliza who had begun to laugh. “Please do not tell me that you are about to propose. You gave me that same look that night as you are giving now,” smile sympathetic, Eliza took his hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze, “it wasn’t meant to be, Alexander. Sure, I’ve considered it, but we really are perfect as friends! Wouldn’t you agree? Philip is happy, he isn’t suffering any, I do believe that our relationship, as it stands, is exactly as the lord above intended it to be.”

 

Holding on to her hands for support, Alexander only loosened his grip when he noticed he was leaving her palms white, “Sorry,” he smirked, taking another deep breath, “I would agree. Truly, I don’t feel we’ve lost our closeness. If so, I do think I would entertain a second proposal…. Eliza, I hope I am not crossing any lines by coming here to ask for your advice regarding another relationship of sorts.”

 

Posture stiffening, Eliza’s lips formed a straight line, “Alexander, I am not interested in a relationship with you different from the one we have now. Anything short of marriage but more than  _ this _ … no.” Before she could find more words, say more, Alexander scrambled to explain himself: “I would never, we talked about this. We wrote down our terms, I apologize.” Shaking her head slowly, Eliza was having a difficult time guessing what he was getting at, “Yes, we did-  _ why _ , then, are we having this conversation, Alexander? We had an agreement that we would cherish our  _ friendship _ , that we would refrain from tainting it in any such way.”

 

Squeezing her hand near white again, Alexander wondered if what he had to say next would have Eliza backtracking on her word and sending him out. “The relationship mentioned isn’t ours.”

 

Gulping, Eliza nodded quietly, but her eyes looked close to tears despite her straight face, “Do I know her?  _ Him _ ?” and the second option didn’t ring any less strained.

 

“In fact, it is not a romantic relationship at all. No, in fact, we’ve only just met sometime this past week on the subway. Philip introduced us-”

 

“ _ Him _ ? You came to me to talk about him?” Overcome with relief, Eliza pulled Alexander into a hug, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “I was so worried that you were here to ask me to bail you out of another poor decision! I spoke about this with Angelica and Peggy and the three of us came to the conclusion that, as long as Thomas Jefferson remains just unknown enough to avoid paparazzi, we don’t mind Philip being around him with your supervision. Angelica brought up the good point that Thomas’ music has given Philip an even stronger interest in poetry and English! Oh, but thank you for having the consideration to ask me my views first. I am so happy that we can have these conversations.”

 

“Yes, there’s that, but-”

 

“ _ But _ ?” Tilting her head, Eliza sat back when she peered up from Alexander’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of his expression and saw that he appeared unsure.

 

“Thomas and I spent an afternoon together at Rochambeau, we had coffee and talked business and politics. He was interested in hearing about the bills I’ve passed and helped pass and I was interested in all of the well rounded opinions and comments he had regarding virtually everything I’ve been paying attention to, too. We talked for hours, but I wasn’t aware of how much I utterly despised the man until we left for his and his musical collaborator, James’, studio. Well, to be fair, I despise him looking back, but I was only moderately peeved at the time. Now, we took a taxi cab to John and I’s place afterward and he insisted he come in and meet John. John was kind, generous, a great host, but they-”

 

“So John is upset that you and Thomas are now dating? Alexander, dear, you know how much John cares for you. Lafayette cried about it, drunk, to me before; I’m sure you’re aware. Perhaps John isn’t ready.” 

 

_ That  _ was a difficult one to swallow. Dark eyes avoiding Eliza’s own honey brown eyes for a good couple of seconds, Alexander didn’t know why he hadn’t expected this conversation to end up like this, so difficult. “John doesn’t feel that way any longer, we sat down and spoke about it a few months ago,” he spoke quietly and Eliza felt a pang of guilt when she only said ‘okay’ in response rather than letting him know that the conversation with Lafayette she was describing had only happened a couple of days ago; as far as she could match it up, time wise, she had good reason to guess that Lafayette had called her the night after the afternoon that Alexander and Thomas had spent at Rochambeau. “Okay,” she repeated, and Alexander nodded, “Okay.”

 

“So the meeting between John and Thomas turned sour?” Eliza asked, picking up where they’d left off. “They argued, but, you know John, he can smooth anything over. John put on a movie, a comedy, and the mood was almost comfortable. I fell asleep on the couch and John and Thomas locked up the place and went down to a bar without me. I wouldn’t say they hit it off, but John seemed okay.”

 

Peering down at her watch, Eliza gasped when she realized the time. Immediately rising to her feet, she grabbed for her phone, double checking the time to be absolutely sure that her watch hadn’t just run ahead of itself. “Alexander, Philip gets out of school in an hour! We have to get on the subway now or we won’t make it in time to pick him up!”

 

Grasping for the sleeve of Eliza’s flowing lime green dress, Alexander knew that she was right, that they had to be on their way, but he had the sinking feeling that, if he didn’t finish the story now, finish what he came here to do, he might bottle it up instead and he didn’t think that he could stomach having secrets from Eliza. Rising to stand beside her, he let go of his light hold on her sleeve and searched for her hand to hold, instead, “I came here to let you know that, last night, I kissed him.”

 

“John?” Honey eyes sparkling for the first time this meeting, Eliza giggled, “Oh, Thomas will get over it! He will have to! Famous men like him, they aren’t exactly known to stay hung up over a person for too long. I’m surprised John didn’t text me immediately after!” And there it was again, that look: he was unsure and Eliza’s heart sunk; she felt foolish, something she was definitely not, for jumping to the conclusion she preferred. “You’ve kissed Thomas? You’ve kissed Thomas and you’ve told John? Of course you told John. Of course! You came to John to pull you through the mess afterward- of course! You just wait until Angelica catches wind of this. Don’t you worry, I won’t tell Peggy, she doesn’t have the same fun with drama as Angelica does, not when it pertains to you.” Silence thick between them, Eliza’s demeanor softened and she frowned, “Sorry; that was harsh, but I can only imagine how John feels.” Collecting her jacket and keys, running even later for the subway, Alexander followed her lead, “John’s my closest friend,” he stressed, “we talk about everything; he makes sure we talk about everything, even after we’ve  _ already  _ covered everything. He’s okay, Eliza, we smoothed everything over. We put on a movie,” trailing behind her, it took Alexander a couple of steps to catch up to her stride out the front door and down the steps, “we were watching the movie together and John tried to text Thomas using my phone, he insisted that I ask him on a proper date. I said no,” he clarified, standing beside Eliza while she reached the subway stop and waited for the train to come by. “Eliza?” that she wasn’t looking at him while he talked made his heart sink.

 

Pulling Alexander into a hug while the subway train came around the corner, Eliza sighed, “I’m not angry,” she began and it sounded like a promise, “I just don’t think that I was the right person to come to for advice this time. I love you, but-”

 

“But?” his voice was hardly audible over the screech of the subway train stopping beside Eliza, it’s doors sliding open.

 

“But I think this is something you have to trust yourself on. Keep John in mind, please… I know you will, but, please, be honest with John. I will support you if you decide to take John’s advice, and I’ll support you otherwise, but I won’t sway the decision for you.” Pressing a chaste kiss to Alexander’s cheek, then forehead, Eliza turned to board the subway.

 

\-----

 

The next ten minutes were spent weighing his options; he could go home and talk to John, but John would want to know the details of his and Eliza’s talk and, frankly, how he had made it out alive. That and, words still fresh in his mind, Alexander felt he would feel compelled to hold out on anything Eliza had said about John. Another option he considered was to call Washington and ask him if he could come in and spend some time helping around the office, even if it meant being asked to organize papers, pick up coffee or proofread a colleague's essay; anything would do as long as it was distracting and chipped away at the day. Watching as train after train zoomed past, Alexander began to wonder if he was blowing this entire thing out of proportion as John had repeatedly told him the night before in an effort to turn his attention back to the movie they were watching. If so, there was only one option, after all: to get it all over with. He’d faced politicians levels ahead of his own experience, managed to compile a stack of essays longer in length than some in his position’s entire life’s work- in short, he’d stormed ahead even when those closest to him told him to be careful, yet, here he was pacing around a crowded subway station, probably going gray over the thought of Thomas Jefferson. “ _ Goddammnit- _ ” scrolling through his phone’s contacts, he started a new text message.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : It’s not four in the afternoon yet, are you up? I have something I want to talk with you about.

 

Seconds later, his phone buzzed with a response.

 

_ [Unknown Number] _ : ha

_ [Unknown Number] _ : ?

_ [Unknown Number] _ : That was sarcasm.

_ [Unknown Number] _ : I’m dressed, if that’s what you wanted to talk about.

 

Shaking his head, Alexander noticed that Thomas’ name in his phone was still ‘Unknown Number’. He guessed he should probably change that. Editing the contact information, he replaced the old title with ‘Royal Pain’.

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Are you home?

 

_ [Royal Pain] _ : I’m doing business at noneofya xoxo

 

Peering up from his phone, Alexander was not in the mood and, that he had laughed at Thomas’ immature response, had him feeling annoyed with himself.

 

_ [Royal Pain] _ : I’m at the studio with Jemmy, we’re working on a track.

_ [Royal Pain] _ : You don’t have to ask, you can come over. No cover charge to witness greatness this time.

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Asshole.

 

Taking the next train to the stop closest to the studio, Alexander didn’t hesitate before knocking on the studio’s door: he was on a mission and he would get this over with, smooth everything out.

 

\-----

 

Welcomed into the studio by James, Alexander would have usually enjoyed being given the chance to check out the instrument James had finished working on since their first meeting, to watch how every button and switch did something different, but, this time, he wasn’t completely present. Three times now he’d asked James where Thomas was and, all three times, he didn’t get an answer, only a ‘listen to this’, ‘he’ll be back soon’ and a ‘check this out!’. Looking over his shoulder every minute or so, Alexander was antsy in his office chair, the noises from the soundboard turning from interesting and creative to grating when he was stressed. The clock nailed to the wall above the desk ticked and ticked and Alexander was so close to blurting out that ‘soon’ didn’t usually mean waiting forty minutes. James, though, he was in a good mood, excited to show off his work to someone who thought even his mistakes sounded great. “Hey, and check this combination out, Hamilton! Ready? Cover your ears, the first sound is piercing! One, two,  _ three- _ ” 

 

“Warn a man before you do that!”

 

Spinning around in his chair at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Alexander looked between Thomas and this man he’d never met before judging by his voice since that was all Alexander could make of him: the man wore a hood that concealed his face in the dim studio lighting and didn’t offer him the pleasantries of a proper meeting before leaving without another word. Running a hand back through his hair, Alexander furrowed his brows in thought. He couldn’t understand why James hadn’t just told him that Thomas was meeting someone in the back all this time, it would have answered a good number of the questions running through his mind. Chewing at his bottom lip, Alexander felt fire burning up from his chest and, after Thomas proceeded to tap out some texts on his phone before a ‘hello’, a ‘sorry’ or even something stupidly flirtatious, Hamilton rose from the chair and made a beeline for Thomas, stepping straight into his personal space, darkened circles around his eyes going hand in hand with the sparks of anger that radiated out from within himself.

 

“What?” finishing one more text, Thomas closed the space between them, thinking Alexander would feel uncomfortable and take a step back, but he didn’t. “I told you you could come over, but I also told you that I was doing business.”

 

“Yeah,” the shorter male scoffed, ignoring James’ hand when he gently nudged him on the shoulder, willing him to back up, “none of ya’.”

 

Demeanor softening, Thomas laughed, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, doll. I thought you’d like to watch James in action without me interrupting.”

 

Dark eyes narrowing, Alexander poked a finger into Thomas’ chest, “You were a lawyer, I’m a lawyer, part of my job is to put two and two together and evidence says that-”

 

“It’s none of your business,” James interrupted, to which Thomas’ nodded with a “What he said”. Curling a hand into the fabric of Jefferson’s rich violet sweater, Alexander wished James would leave, he felt ganged up on despite the way James’ tone remained careful. Lowering his gaze, Alexander frowned, tightening his hold on Jefferson’s sweater because he’d be damned if he reached for the man’s hand, “Fine. That’s fine. I came here to tell you that that’s it! With  _ any  _ due respect, I’m- well, I’m done. That’s fine.” 

 

“I should go…” Taking his opportunity to leave, James scrambled to zip up his coat and scoop up his backpack before slipping out the door in a fit of nervousness induced coughing.

 

At the click of the door’s closing, followed by the sound of James’ locking the door from the outside, Thomas took a deep breath and laid his arms lazily around Alexander’s waist, “Hey, we can talk. You came here to talk about something, what was it? Think back.” voice lacking the ego and amusement that he spoke with prior to James’ leaving, Alexander was torn between wanting to go in and tear him apart with his words or following James’ suit and leaving. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to make a decision, to figure out which would be the best choice, and ended up going with neither, staying still. Letting go of Thomas’ sweater, he wore a poker face, “I want you to go on a date with me.”

 

Caught between scoffing and gawking, Jefferson was suspicious, caught off guard by Alexander’s request. “After all we’ve been through?” he drawled, voice sing song, but his sarcastic teasing didn’t last long, his disposition suddenly wary, “And suppose you don’t show up? Suppose you stand me up?”

 

Cracking a hint of a smile, Alexander stood on his tiptoes, and, even then, he stood shorter than Thomas, “Suppose I don’t?” he shrugged and Thomas appeared unamused. “You don’t strike me as someone spontaneous, you’ve already made up your mind,” Thomas spoke, his voice even and quiet, standing out in the space of silence in between songs that played in the background. Shaking his head, Alexander shrugged once more, pressing forward to rest his head against Thomas’ chest, meant to be done in an effort to inch away from Thomas’ hands on his waist, something he felt was unfair when they were supposed to be having a serious conversation, but said hands followed along. Responses ran through his mind: he could have told Thomas that, yes, that might be true, but at least he could bet that his decision wouldn’t waiver depending on the company around him, but that was cold and, stubborn as he was, Alexander had already had enough drama in one day to last ages. Back on his tiptoes, he pressed a ghost of a kiss to Thomas’ cheek and, frustratingly unsure, backed down to kiss somewhere easier to back down from, his jaw.

 

Offering a small smile, worry was still written all over Thomas’ face and Alexander felt like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to, a side he’d, for whatever reason, been allowed to see. In Thomas’ arms, Alexander felt like he was eavesdropping, witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing, and, yet, he was right there. Shaking that thought away, Hamilton decided that he would think back on that later; right now, he needed to say  _ something _ . “It’s still early,” he said, coughing into his shoulder when his voice had came out too soft for his liking after the quiet, “take me out.” A demand, maybe, but Thomas seemed to prefer this change of tone as well. Cocking an eyebrow, Thomas was all smiles, as if all that he’d gotten out of their entire conversation was ‘I won’.

 

“As you wish.”

 

\------

Dinner at an Italian restaurant Alexander had never been to before, their reservation made on the spot due to connections of Jefferson’s and a trip to the bookstore later and Alexander was hardly able to catch a minute to step aside and breathe until he’d spotted a restroom in the corner of the bookstore and excused himself. 

 

Locking the door to the single stall restroom, Alexander hopped up onto the sink and pulled out his phone. Staring blankly down at the screen, it hit Alexander again that he didn’t exactly know what to think about any of this: dinner went great, smooth without any arguments that weren’t mutually fun, Thomas had stayed within appropriate boundaries, and now they had spent the past hour picking through the bookstore’s many shelves and aisles, with Jefferson pointing out which books he’d read already and making jokes about book titles or authors whose name he could make puns out of. Terrible puns, while Alexander tried his best not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. Sat at a circular table in back of the bookstore, they’d paged through the many different books they’d picked out and, over and over, all Alexander could think about was how much fun John would have had coming along; he would have had them all kicked out of the bookstore with his loud laughter by now. Smiling at the thought, Alexander sighed and sent out a quick text before joining Thomas back at the table:

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : John, I’m at the bookstore with Thomas- while surprisingly enjoyable, I do wish you were here... I’ll be home in the next hour or so. Avec tout mon amour- Alexander.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little short, but the next one will be back to normal! vuv Thanks for reading!

“I got it, I got it,” holding the house keys he’d swiped from the shorter male’s pocket just out of Alexander’s reach, Thomas was a total pest, repeating that he only wanted to make sure Alexander got home safe and sound despite that they were standing right in front of Alexander and John’s very apartment. Stepping back, Alexander rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, allowing Thomas to turn the key in the door, “Oh, look, it’s just my apartment,” Alexander mumbled with sarcasm once Thomas had opened the door, but he frowned upon seeing the familiar neon green post-it note on the fridge. John always left one of those when he was going somewhere and Alexander wasn’t home. Catching on, Thomas shrugged uncomfortably, “Would you like to head back to my place and I can get you a cab back home once your roommate is back?” to which Alexander shook his head, “Thank you for the offer, Thomas, but I think I’d rather just be here when John gets home. He’d like that.”

 

Shifting his weight onto the other foot, Thomas stood just outside the front door, “Okay. Before I go, I wanted to apologize for what happened at the studio earlier today. James and I have a lot of business to keep up in order to keep our musical career afloat and sometimes plans don’t go smoothly. I thought one of our ties and I would be able to talk it out and that he’d be gone by the time you showed up, but we just couldn’t come to an agreement.” Resting a hand along Alexander’s jaw, Thomas was peppering the story with lies and he could just see it, but Alexander kept his mouth shut; he’d get the truth out of James, somehow, he told himself. If his intuition meant anything at all, he felt that James wasn’t comfortable with these business meetings Jefferson described. He’d spill if Alexander picked his words right. “Business is business,” the shorter male quirked an eyebrow as he responded and Thomas laughed quietly, keeping his voice down after the neighbors peeked out from their door to check on who was talking in the hallway at close to midnight. Pulling his hair out of it’s ponytail only to tie it back again, Alexander smiled, “That was nice, thank you.” Seemingly relieved, a reaction Alexander didn’t exactly expect from the man who, although he himself couldn’t exactly talk on the matter or risk being a hypocrite, oozed ego at every chance he got, Thomas stepped forward to pull Alexander into a short lasting hug, “I suppose it wasn’t the worst date I’ve ever been on,” he smirked, “I can’t believe you accidentally threatened that waiter with a fork!” And there it was: he was bringing up the argument that wrapped up their time at the Italian restaurant, the argument Alexander had thought Thomas had agreed to just let go. Side eying the taller man, Hamilton wondered if he was only trying to get into this conversation so that he’d have an excuse to stay longer. “You kicked me from under the table!” to which Jefferson had to bite down on his cheek to keep from busting out laughing and having the neighbors on their case: “Mad you couldn’t reach far enough to kick me back? And I didn’t  _ kick  _ you, it was a tap.”

 

Dumbfounded, Alexander shook his head, his look screaming ‘ _ are you serious?! _ ’ and, if Thomas’ smug smile said anything, he was. “The people at the table next door shushed me!” Alexander whispered, because it was all he could do to keep his voice down, “They didn’t shush  _ you _ , but they-”

 

“Alexander?” Voice laced with a sigh, Thomas knew that, if they kept going, he was only going to rile Hamilton up more, and he could just imagine how long that argument would last; John would be home and they’d only be getting through the part of the story where Alexander had been fuming while Thomas had been whispering something to the waiter and laughed, the only word Alexander could make out from it being his name. Of course Jefferson had refused to tell him what had been said, all he knew was that the elderly couple at the table beside them had made a complaint and Jefferson had gotten them out of any kind of responsibility for it. “I had a wonderful time.”

 

“Me too.” Flustered, Alexander glared up at Thomas, expression only softening when he was brought back in for another quick hug. “Are you leaving now? I have to read John’s note and see if there’s anything I need to get done before he gets back.” Blinking, Thomas was taken by surprise- while he himself could be blunt, Alexander could be so outright bold, “I was thinking about it,” he shrugged, and he watched Alexander blink up at him expectantly; he guessed that he was thinking something along the lines of ‘but you’re still standing in the doorway?’. “Right. Okay, you get to your note-” stopping the door from closing on him the moment he took a step out, Thomas’ eyes narrowed down at Alexander who grinned up at him, apologetically, “but, first, if you wanted to give me a kiss goodbye, now would be the time.” Tone flat, Thomas sighed when Alexander seemed to be  _ thinking  _ the offer over. Letting go of the door, Jefferson offered a hint of a smile, “You have a good night, Alexander,” and, with that, he walked off.

 

\----

 

Tossing his coat on the couch, Alexander reached the green post-it note that’d been on his mind from the second Thomas had opened his apartment’s door.

 

‘ _ Alex, _

_ I’m going over to Lafayette’s to play some card games and gossip about your ass. ‘I wish you were here’ Really??? Man... _

_ Just kidding, I’m not mad. Hope you brought me back something, though, you know garlic bread is my fave. If you didn’t, there’s some bread in the freezer and I’ll forgive you _ ’

 

Reading the post-it in a hurry, Alexander flipped it over to read the rest.

 

‘ _ for having the manners not to ask Thomas to get some for me if you make it for me, haha. BTW, don’t touch the wine I stuck in the fridge, I want to share it. Be back later. _

_ \- John. _ ’


	9. Chapter 9

Startled awake, Alexander sat up from the couch, pillow clenched in his fist, because, as impractical as it was, that was the first ‘weapon’ he could think to grab once he’d been woken up to a chorus of voices. Once his eyes focused, though, his breathing settled down and he dropped the pillow with a sigh of relief: it was only John and Lafayette. Usually, John entered the apartment quietly if he had any reason to guess that Alex could be sleeping, but Lafayette did not extend that courtesy. “Mon ami!” enveloping Alexander in a hug, Lafayette tumbled down on top of the shorter male and John gasped, having been hanging up his coat when he heard Lafayette exclaim ‘ _shit_!’ from behind him, in the living room. “You okay?” John rushed over, his worried expression turned only vaguely amused when he ran around to the other side of the couch to see Alexander who, from under Lafayette, was pressing an open palm to the Frenchman’s cheek to keep his distance. Glaring up at John, Alexander frowned, but he couldn’t keep his anger for being woken up mid nap for long and, soon, he was trying to hold back laughter, “Would you help him up?” Turning his head, Lafayette held out a hand for John and John reluctantly lifted him up with one sharp tug.

 

Back on his feet, Lafayette sniffed the air and, grinning, clasped his hands together, “What is that smell, Alexander?” but John knew exactly what it was and darted over to the kitchen where he turned off the oven. Somehow Alexander had been lucky and must have fallen asleep immediately after popping the frozen baguettes into the oven because, poking at one of the loaves with a fork, John could tell that they were done. “The-” heart racing again, Alexander was relieved to see that John hadn’t pulled two charred loaves out of the oven. It’d happened before and Alexander did not feel like having to clean out the oven again to rid it of the soot. Just then, the timer on his cellphone went off and he smirked, holding his phone up for John to see from across the open floored apartment, “See, I didn’t forget about it,” to which John responded by setting the pan down on a cooling rack on the counter and circling back over to the couch, pressing a kiss to Alexander’s forehead, “Go add the garlic,” he said, to which Lafayette gasped, “And ruin perfectly good baguettes? You know, they are made the way they are for good reason! They are perfect just the- Alexander, speaking of perfect!” Taking a seat beside him, Lafayette looked completely dazed and Alex made a mental note to tell John to hold out on that wine bottle in the fridge he’d written about on the post-it, “Look at you! Mon amour, you look like you’ve slept! At least a week ago! What could it be…” Rolling his eyes, Alexander nudged Lafayette in the side while the Frenchman continued to gush, “John tells me you’re holding out on something!” Speech slurred, his accent pulled at each letter, “Why don’t you invite Thomas over? I want to see how he looks, how do you say….in the person!”

 

“Thomas just left an hour ago, he’s not going to want to come back so soon,” Alexander shifted, feeling John’s eyes on him from where he sat on the arm of the couch, “He’s had a long day, I don’t think it would be wise to text him-” pausing, he looked between John and Lafayette who were passing looks back and forth between each other. “Then we will visit him!” Lafayette offered and Alexander could see John shake his head ‘no’ from the corner of his eye; still, the Frenchman seemed to think that his idea was the answer: “Why not? You can have your fight,” he directed at John, “even the score.”

 

“Settle the score?” Concerned, Alexander thought Jefferson and Laurens had ended that night at the bar on good terms. Shaking his head, John reached around Alexander and tapped Lafayette on the shoulder, “I was just playing, man, talking a little smack.” Clearly not satisfied with John’s attempt at damage control, Lafayette sat up straighter, “Oh, no, no, no, John. I didn’t have three vodkas without the rocks to sit through your story for… for this! Enough! Tell Alexander here,” motioning towards the male sat between them, “how you feel! It is the only way! There is a quote, a famous saying by the very dear French author by the name of Victor Hugo-”

 

“Laf, knock it off!” a frown deep set across his lips, John wasn’t having fun anymore. Squinting over at John, watching him nervously tug at and tighten his ponytail, Lafayette was sympathetic, able to detect his friend’s mood, yet not sympathetic enough to let this go. “Tell him.”

 

Nerves quaking, Alexander broke himself out of the tension he’d felt trapped between, as if he were sitting between two tugging magnets, “The bread is getting cold,” he rushed, but, in the kitchen, all he wanted to do was make a beeline for either the bedroom or out the door. It was rare that the three friends found each other in bad spirits all at once, but, when it happened, it never seemed to end well. John was usually the one who fixed it, but, this time, he was in on it, fueling the fire, and Alexander knew he had to act quick so that nobody would have to start their next conversation with the other with an apology. “I know how John feels,” he blurted out, returning to stand in front of the couch, “he knows he is dear to me- John,” tracing the back of his hand across the freckled male’s cheek, “you are very dear to me,” and, looking to Lafayette but keeping contact with John, Alexander’s tone was firm, “and, you, you are very dear to me. Thomas, he’s quite the conversationalist, a former lawyer-”

 

Giggling, the Frenchman raised his eyebrows, glancing over at John, “You hear that, John? Thomas knows the language of _love_ : law.”

 

Clearing his throat, Alexander shot Lafayette a look, but his cheeks tinged red despite himself, “as I was saying… I am open to concerns, but I do think myself fully capable of remaining cautionary.” Noting the way Lafayette’s eyes seemed to glaze over as if he were waiting for whenever the conversation would get good again, Alexander did his best to cut down the wordy-ness of what he was to say next: “Please understand that I’ve made it a point to avoid any sort of dating since my divorce from Eliza, I’m hardly in any rush to allow Thomas any such allowances that are not already extended to you,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to John’s lips. Lafayette, in response, crossed his arms with a huff, “ _I_ have a concern. John deserves more than this! I will not go through rounds of shots again tomorrow night while John gushes about that kiss! The one right then! No, no, no, I am a professional, I won’t go to work hungover for four mornings in a row.” Troubled eyes focusing on Hamilton, unmoving, Lafayette frowned, “No, I don’t like this. You leave John, my friend, John, a message while out with that Thomas. ‘ _I wish you were here_ ’,” Lafayette mocked in his best mimic of Alexander’s voice, which, not surprisingly, sounded nothing like him at all, “No, I wish you would choose! You choose everything else- oui, you have an opinion on everything. Choose! This is no different.”

 

Curling in on himself, John wanted to hide; he wanted to be angry with Lafayette for effectively putting both Alexander and himself under the spotlight, for pointing out problems that he was sure would result in that kiss being the last one, but he couldn’t stay angry with one of his closest friends when, seemingly sobered up, Lafayette had, all at once, summed up what John was hesitant to say out loud since even before Alexander and Eliza’s separation. Still, Lafayette was relentless, pushing further: “Choose! If it is Thomas, it is not John. If it is John, Thomas needs to understand that! Or, if you are still unsure, then it is neither, no? You can’t make the decision to say both, not without John and Thomas agreeing-” Finally having had enough, Alexander interrupted Lafayette mid speech, the forceful statements grating, “Are you done?”

 

Swallowing, Lafayette squared his shoulders, fingers digging into his crossed arms. This time, his voice was level, quieter but strong and to the point, “I do not care for your reasoning, _your_ reasons- I want an answer for John.”

 

“I have to talk this over with Thomas.”

 

Looking to John, Lafayette swore he could see the freckled male’s heart plunge and he closed the space between them, arm protectively rested around his waist, “In other words?” Holding a hand out, palm out towards Alexander when he had tried to lean forward and catch John in another kiss, Lafayette glared, repeating himself, “In other words, mon ami?”

 

“In other words, I never said that John was a second choice. John _was_ never, _is_ not a second choice. If ever I have to choose, I would be damned if I turned my back on my dear friend. Lafayette, this extends to you, though I suppose to a different extent,” backing up, Alexander wasn’t usually one to realize when he was talking himself into a hole, but the look on the Frenchman’s face was loud and clear, “I would like to continue seeing Thomas. I wasn’t certain prior to tonight but, standing here, right now, I feel confident in that decision.” Though he spoke with the air of confidence he spoke of, Lafayette wasn’t buying it and he shook his head, burrowing his nose against John’s neck; sighing, he could feel John’s pulse, how fast and nervous his heart was beating. “I think it’s time for me to leave. I don’t want to be here for those baguettes to be disgraced,” Lafayette smirked, trying to get even a small laugh out of John before he stood from the couch and, nodding his head towards Hamilton, he forced a smile, “Goodnight, mes amis.”

 

\----

 

Shifting his stance as the sound of the door closing behind Lafayette, respectfully quiet as he’d shut it, seemed to rattle through the apartment, Alexander closed his eyes and took a slow breath, “John, I-” he began, but, when John looked at him with hazel eyes that threatened to tear up at any moment, Hamilton lost his words, his excuses, and bit his lip, nodding with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said instead and John reached up to tug at the end of Alexander’s dark green t-shirt. “I thought that, when you were… when you felt better,” tripping over his words, something unusual for John, John pressed on, “I thought that, when you came to terms with you and Eliza’s divorce, that you’d _you know_ . I didn’t mind waiting, shit, I don’t mind waiting, I would wait another year, wait all over again, but not if _you know_.” Letting go of Alexander’s shirt, John finally found it in himself to look him in the eyes, “I can’t wait if Thomas is in the picture, not even if you say you treat him the same.”

 

Cupping John’s jaw in his hands, Alexander nodded once more, but the wheels in his head were turning, always turning, and John couldn’t help but to feel intruded on, as if the other male was looking into him, trying to work out a deal, a compromise. “I want us to talk this over with Thomas.” Searching for any sign that Hamilton wasn’t meaning what he thought, what he _swore_ he meant, John wanted to bite back, set him back a couple of pegs, but, instead, he found himself in agreement, watching over Alexander’s shoulder when he sat down beside him, eying the text messages, a knot forming in his throat when Jefferson, fast texter as he was, wrote back, inviting the both of them over.

 

\----

 

Huddling into Alexander’s side, the cool night air could have been worse with a little bit of wind, but it was still uncomfortable, making Jefferson’s elevator ride down to the main floor seem to last ages. The quiet the two shared didn’t help, either; all Alexander could hear aside from the sounds of cars passing by and the buzzing of the light attached to the wall beside the door was John’s breathing. When Thomas approached the front door, John’s breath caught in his throat and he winced, thinking Thomas was only going to acknowledge Alexander but, when he opened the door for them, he had looked to John first. “Mr. Laurens,” he smiled and John was surprised that he’d even remembered his last name from when he’d told him at the bar: then, he remembered that this guy used to make money off of catching all of the details and he wasn’t so taken aback anymore; still, it was a nice gesture and John felt confident enough to step out from Alexander’s side and walk on into the apartment’s lobby first, before Alexander came in after him. “Mr. Hamilton,” Jefferson tilted his head towards the shorter male, taking his hand in his own, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. How is your thigh holding up? Has the bruising gone down?”

“Bruising?” John wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation was heading and he was almost hesitant to get into the elevator until he watched Alexander snatch his hand back away from Thomas’ own and roll his eyes with a response, “Thomas kicked me from under the table at dinner tonight because he couldn’t handle being wrong about a trivia question.”

 

“I _tapped_ him with my shoe,” Thomas was quick to defend himself, brushing his hand against John’s as they stepped into the elevator and Thomas pressed the button for the fifteenth floor. Snickering, John could just imagine the two probably made a bigger scene than either of them was willing to fess up to or acknowledge to save themselves the embarrassment. Smiling down at John who stood a good four inches taller than Alexander, Thomas admired their reflection in the mirrors which lined the elevator’s walls, paying the most attention to look on Alexander’s face that, to him, looked to be a look of admiration. Maybe a little bit of relief, like he’d expected Thomas to go into this talk they’d agreed to over text just an hour ago fists first. “How in the Lord’s name do you settle your arguments with _this_ man?” Thomas drawled, teasing, and John was happy to see that Alexander didn’t look ready to shoot off at the mouth. “Like this-” John wasn’t like Alexander, he didn’t play around with ghost-like kisses, using them as suggestions to fill in for the actual action, John kissed Thomas, right on the jaw, unapologetic, “and this,” and again, “and this,” the third kiss guided straight to his lips by Thomas himself who had turned his head, allowing him to. John arched an eyebrow, his over the top self seeming to come back to him after he’d been drained of everything during what was supposed to be a fun visit with Lafayette. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he grinned, voice loud as usual, and Alexander couldn’t be mad, not when John had pushed past Thomas and himself to exit the elevator first, hands on his hips, with Thomas following close behind. “Mr. Laurens, it’s two in the morning and I have neighbors,” Thomas warned, but he didn’t sound angry, more so careful as if he’d had complaints made about himself or his company before. Turning the keys in the door, Thomas smirked, ego back in check, “Let’s have this talk.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Would you answer that?” Grumbling, Thomas stretched his legs out, but was unable to turn over to lay on his stomach. Sleepily peering over his shoulder, Thomas blinked a couple of times until John came into focus and he pieced together that John, Alexander and himself had managed to fall asleep on his guest room bed, he himself still in the three piece suit he’d been wearing upon greeting them. Again, there was that buzzing and Jefferson noticed Alexander’s phone, on the bed beside himself, lighting up again. Willing himself to fall back asleep and ignore the buzzing, Thomas couldn’t find it in himself to wake Alexander up, not when the man seemed to actually be in a deep sleep, something he’d, during their time at Rochambeau, had told him was a rarity. He’d have no such luck with catching any more rest though as, right as Thomas closed his eyes, John had woken up and rested his head in the crook of Thomas’ shoulder. “Hand it to me, it might be Eliza,” he yawned and Thomas reached for it, handing the phone over to John who proceeded to open and read through the five text messages.

 

“It’s Philip,” he murmured. “What does he want?”  Thomas asked; with John’s arm no longer draped around his side like deadweight, Thomas was able to turn around, propping himself up on his elbow. “He’s getting out of school early today, something about a power outage in half the building…” Re looking over the texts, John’s hazel eyes went big and Jefferson raised an eyebrow, prompting him with a ‘ _ what? _ ’. “He wants Alex to pick him up instead of Eliza. Eliza’s at a home decorator event. Here, I’ll tell him we’re on our way.”

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : Yo, Philip, this is John! Sit tight! Me, your dad, and Mr. Jefferson are on our way. Wait inside the building, ok, man? Your dad will text you when we get there.

 

“So I’m coming along?” Thomas smirked, watching as John typed out and sent the text. Looking up from the screen, John shrugged, “You don’t have to, but I think I owe you lunch for…” eying the ceiling, John’s mind was still clouded with sleep, “for wrinkling your suit.” Focused back on Thomas, John grinned, “We were in the middle of a conversation and I looked over and you and Alex were out like a light like clockwork! At least we know  _ I  _ can handle my wine, I chose to fall asleep,” he teased, then went back to texting Philip who had responded.

 

_ [My Sun] _ : you guys are hanging out with thomas jefferson???

_ [My Sun] _ : what are you guys doing??

_ [My Sun] _ : thomas is picking me up from school???

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : You got it, little dude! Just sit tight!

 

“Don’t tell him what we’re doing,” Thomas winked and John cracked up laughing, effectively waking Alexander. “ _ Damnnit _ , Laurens.” Scowling, Jefferson turned over to face Alexander who was rubbing his eyes, the seemingly permanent darkness underneath them looking more of a lighter shade of purple. “Good morning, doll,” he spoke, softness returning to his voice, “you look like you slept well.” Dropping his arms back down at his sides, Alexander struggled to keep his eyes open, “Get me some coffee?” to which Thomas huffed, “What am I? Your waiter?” but, before he could go on and receive a comeback from Alexander, John interrupted, sitting up from the other side of Jefferson, “We can pick up coffee after picking up Philip!”

 

“ _ Philip _ ? What happened? Is Eliza okay? Is she sick and can’t pick him up? Why didn’t she tell me? I told her to call me any time without hesitance. Is Eliza alright?” Sitting up, Alexander didn’t bother to fix his hair which had fallen partway out of it’s ponytail or smooth out his t-shirt before getting out of bed, deep worry in his eyes, “Call Eliza for me, I’m going to get my shoes.”

 

“My God…” watching Alexander dash out of the room, nearly running into the closed door on the way, Thomas looked over to John who didn’t seem phased. “He’ll be back in five, four, three, two-”

 

“John, what did she say?” back in the room with his black converse shoes on but untied, Alex stood in the doorway, catching his breath. Slipping out of bed, John handed the phone back to Alexander with an admiring smile; he never tired of witnessing the over the top consideration he showed for Eliza, though maybe moreso now that they were separated than while married, “Eliza is fine, man. It’s Philip; the electricity went out at school and he texted you asking if you could pick him up. I told him we were on our way. Look at how excited he is!” John gushed, coming over to stand at Alexander’s side, pointing out specific texts, “I forgot to tell him not to tell everyone that Thomas was coming along, so hopefully there won’t be a big crowd when we get there,” John winked at Thomas who was clearly enjoying the thought of a miniature paparazzi awaiting them. “I’ll put a cap on the pictures after ten,” he joked, but John had to wonder if he was serious. Frowning, Alexander typed out his own response to his son:

 

_ [Alexander H.] _ : I hope that you were able to get your homework for the classes you’re missing. I know how you don’t like to miss out on your math extra credit. I can have Thomas print out some worksheets for you before we get on our way just in case.

 

“Thomas?” he asked as the taller male rose out of bed and began to unbutton his suit to pick out a new outfit, “Could you please get on your computer and print out some miscellaneous math worksheets for Philip? Four or five should be fine, it might make him feel better, he doesn’t like missing school.” Shaking his head with a laugh, Thomas tossed his top onto the bed, undoing his belt and letting it drop to the floor, “Damn, the kid can’t catch a break!” Crossing the room to the mirror on the closet door, Thomas ruffled his hands through his hair, fixing any curls that had flattened from sleep. Catching a glare from Hamilton through the mirror, Thomas spun around on his heel, armed with a smug smile, “What? I never said I wasn’t going to print out the sheets, sugar.”

 

“Sugar!” John snickered and Alexander nudged him with his elbow, “Don’t encourage him,” he said under his breath, “he’ll use it every other sentence if you do.”

 

“Talking about me?” Jefferson rose an eyebrow, kicking off his black formerly perfectly pressed dress pants. “N-” cutting Alexander off, John giggled a ‘yes!’ followed by “I was saying that you can call me sugar anytime.”

 

If he could, Alexander could have rolled his dark eyes to the back of his head, but he settled on fixing Jefferson, who was now standing before them in nothing but his underwear, with a disapproving look, “Go get dressed, Philip’s waiting.”

 

Passing Alexander to head towards his bedroom and pick out something a lot more casual than the three piece suit he’d had on to wear, John trailed along behind the rapper, “Hey, borrow me a shirt? I’m still wearing the same one from the day before yesterday,” he confessed, unashamed, “Alex needs one, too.” Stopping to allow John to catch up, Thomas draped an arm around John’s waist, “I’ve got some shirts straight out the box. You can have them, local brands are always mailing their newest designs to me in hopes that I’ll wear them out,” he chuckled, but John was more interested in the shirts hung up on hangers once they’d reached the walk in closet. “I want to borrow one of  _ yours _ ,” he commented, grabbing for a forest green polo style button up. “It’s yours,” Thomas said, picking out a fitted magenta crew neck t-shirt for himself and a gray hoodie for Alexander; something about it had him thinking he’d like it and it wouldn’t matter if it was a little long on him.

 

\-----

Arriving at Philip’s school via taxi, John got out first, then Alexander and, lastly, Thomas. Saying that there was a small crowd outside the school’s doors would be an understatement: There were at least forty kids all around Philip’s age crowded around one another and all talking stopped as the three men exited the cab.

 

“It’s him!” a girl with blond pigtails squealed, and Alexander charged in front of John and Thomas, taking control of the situation while John remained glued to Thomas’ side, glowing with all of the attention. “Back up, back up! You’re too close to the street- hey, kid, off the sidewalk! Get back into the school, you’ll have your chance!”

 

“Dad!” breaking through the crowd, Philip was beaming, turning around to face his classmates once he’d reached him, “See? I told you! I told you my dad knows Thomas Jefferson!” Giddy, Philip waved to John and ran to Thomas, pulling him into a hug. “Hey, man!” John smiled cheerfully, ruffling his hand through Philip’s hair. “You ready to bounce?” Thomas asked, matching John’s mood, and Philip nodded his head ecstatically. Meanwhile, Alexander was still struggling with his self imposed duty as security guard, trying to keep an eye on all of the students at once. Poking Alexander on the shoulder, John whispered into his ear so that none of the kids could overhear him: “Let them know that they can take out their phones and take a picture now, but we have to bounce.” Confused, Hamilton looked over his shoulder, “We’re leaving before the kids can get an autograph? Something?” and John nodded, too nervous to ask Thomas to change his mind; Alexander, however, wasn’t afraid to risk walking on eggshells for a couple of minutes if it meant these kids would have their chance. “John, take my place, I’m going to talk to Thomas,” he ordered, instantly feeling horrible for using such a demanding tone with him, but he shook that feeling off, he wanted to be unyielding once he reached Thomas who, lowering his sunglasses, looked ready to shoot him down already. 

 

Philip was at Thomas’ side, just as ready to go as Thomas was, and Alexander was careful to keep his voice level in volume when around his son, a difficult task when Thomas was looking at him as if he was being ridiculous. “Thomas, these kids are going to go home and tell their parents and friends what an ass-” backtracking, he bit his tongue, making a mental note that he’d also have to avoid swearing, “how absolutely rude you were! They’re going to toss your albums and turn off the local stations when your songs come on,” narrowing his eyes, he thought, for sure, that Thomas was going to pick a fight, but, instead, he nodded, taking Philip along with him to approach the crowd. “ _ Asshole _ ,” Hamilton muttered under his breath once his son was out of earshot. 

  
  


A half hour later and the crowd was finally thinning out, with only two kids left and Hamilton was relieved to note that they were brother and sister and that their parents were coming down the sidewalk to pick them up. Arm linked with Thomas’ own, John looked happy, genuinely happy- Alexander would have had to be blind not to pick up on it and, while it made him happy to see that, he couldn’t help but to feel a pang of guilt. He’d seen John’s smile reach his eyes plenty of times, turn his cheeks a shade of complimentary pink, but it’d been a long time. Too long. Alexander didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach it if he ended up being the one to wipe that away; Lafayette was right, he had to be careful, choosy with his words. Coming over to Jefferson’s other side, where Philip stood, proud, Alexander gripped the rapper’s arm to get his full attention. “Thank you,” a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I’m sure that meant a lot to those kids.” Shrugging it off, Thomas smirked, “It was nothing. You were right, and it was nice to hear these kids’ perspective on James and I’s music.” Giving Thomas’ sleeve a tug, Philip hadn’t lost an ounce of energy since running out from the crowd, he was practically jittering with excitement, “Are we going to  _ Chuck E. Cheese  _ now, Mr. Jefferson? John? Dad?” And, while Thomas and Alexander joined in a chorus of ‘No’, John took Philip’s side, “Heck yeah! I’ll kick all of your butts at pinball! Come on, how can you say no to this guy?” John laughed, motioning over to Philip whose eyes were pleading. Sighing simultaneously, Alexander and Thomas exchanged glances before giving in. “You got it, babe, but, if I win, you’re buying me something from the prize counter,” Thomas grinned in response, giving John’s side a squeeze. Receiving a wide eyed and confused look from Philip, it clicked in Alexander’s head what Thomas had called John and he swooped in with a distraction, retrieving the folded up mathematics worksheets from Thomas’ left pocket, practically shoving them into his son’s hands, “ _ Chuck E. Cheese _ , but, afterward, there’s math to get going on!” Patting Philip on the shoulder, he knew he could have come up with something better, because Philip appeared calculating, he hadn’t been distracted at all- not until they approached the giant neon orange building and Philip was taken in by the bright lights and and the pop music pouring out from the door, 

 

“We’re here!”


	11. Chapter 11

The hour at Chuck E. Cheese turned into three, their fun time only interrupted by a party of forty kids who had came in as a part of an afterschool program. Even Philip, who had previously been completely oblivious to every other kid around him, felt crowded in. “Time to go?” John caught on and Philip nodded, clasping onto the end of John’s top. Exiting the venue with three giant stuffed animals clasped to his chest, Alexander had to be careful not to trip over their hanging limbs. “You’ve got three new toys to put in your room,” John smiled, hand on Philip’s shoulder, “well, if your dad can see over them to find his way home!” he teased, and Alexander glared at him from between the heads of the neon orange and sky blue gorillas. Tapping Thomas on the shoulder, John was gentle, choosing to whisper a suggestion into the taller man’s ear, to give him the choice to take credit for being considerate, “Offer to hold one of them, please? The giant giraffe? He’s struggling…” Taking the hint, Thomas lowered his sunglasses and nodded, “Allow me?” Try as he might to be helpful, though, to Alexander, as with most things, this was all or nothing. “How kind!” he smirked, effectively piling all three into Thomas’ open arms.

 

One subway ride later and the three men and Philip were at Eliza’s doorstep. Still giddy from the success of the home decorating event, Eliza opened the door still in her favorite pastel teal sundress, a complimentary pink flower tucked in her hair. “Hello, hello!” embracing Philip in a hug, Eliza guided him off to the side to allow John, Alexander and Thomas to come in, “Excuse the gift bags on the table, I haven’t unpacked from the event yet,” she said, always one to point out the little messes that nobody else would likely notice or think of as a mess. Hands clasped behind his back, Thomas had removed his sunglasses before strolling in and taking in the looks of the place, “I can see what Alexander was talking about,” he drawled, Southern accent always seeming to come through the most by far when he was fishing for brownie points, “you have an eye for design. Over here,” he pointed to the vase atop of the living room’s fireplace mantel, “I enjoy the Edwardian influences. And the window drapes? Very creative, I don’t know if I would have found a better way to tie in a 1600s French flair.” While Eliza was pleasantly surprised by Thomas’ knowledge, Alexander and John were exchanging looks the entire time; they supported Eliza’s love of design, sure, but, if Eliza wasn’t there to confirm his labeling of the pieces, they would have thought he was making it all up off the top of his head.

 

From there, Thomas had, guided by Eliza, gone through the entire first floor of the house. Alexander didn’t think he’d ever rolled his eyes more than he’d been doing since meeting Thomas: the guy, after finally formally introducing himself to Eliza, had seriously asked for her hand and kissed it. “If glares could kill,” John whispered, elbowing Alexander who hadn’t even realized that his eyes shone fire. Swallowing, Alexander got himself back in check, he didn’t need to be reminded by John for the millionth time that they were divorced. Stepping aside so that they all now stood in a circle, Thomas reached for Alexander’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “That was fun,” Eliza gushed, “oh, and, John, it is so nice to see you! It’s been months! You look well, how has your work been treating you?”

“It’s tight. I pick my hours and it’s all good as long as I meet my call quota for the week. Turns out that not a lot of people like getting calls from us, but my new boss gave us the go ahead to hang up on anyone who goes above and beyond in the rudeness department, so it’s all good.” Shrugging, John would have to tell her some other time that he’d, just a week ago, put in his two week quitting notice; as for now, he didn’t really want to steer the conversation directly on himself. “And Alexander, that sweatshirt really does suit you, it’s nice to see you’ve gone shopping for yourself!” Saving him the breath, Thomas chimed in, ready to take credit: “Actually, it was mine, but it looks better on him. It was made by a local designer, I’ll have to hook you up with their business card sometime.” Raising a finger, he corrected himself, “You’ll have to remind me, I’ll forget to pass it along.” Nodding, Eliza looked from Alexander to Thomas, “Oh! Well, that explains that. I know you prefer to shop for Philip over yourself, after all.” Resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder, John smiled up at him, “Which is why we had to step in.”

 

Between Eliza’s numerous glances his way, honey brown eyes searching and asking for answers, and John’s flirty behavior that’d gone on since they’d woken up at Thomas’ apartment that afternoon, Alexander couldn’t take it anymore. “Thomas-” he said pointedly, maybe in a tone a bit too short, Alexander moved his arm and, understanding, the rapper let go of his hand. “Eliza, do you mind if I grab those three books from the upstairs library before I forget?” Not at all surprised by Hamilton’s question, he’d always been the type to speak the moment something came to his mind, Eliza gave him the go ahead, “Of course not, not after I’ve forgotten to hand them over to you your past two visits,” she smiled, but it wasn’t for long that she was also in the company of John as Alexander, reaching the staircase, asked him to come with.

 

Suspicious, Thomas watched as Alexander instructed Philip to stay with Eliza when, midway up the staircase, he’d tried to follow John and himself up to the second floor. “So,” Eliza prompted, bringing Thomas back into the moment, “would you like to see my special china collection? It’s not much, but I’ve only recently began collecting. Angelica, my sister, she’s the one with a collection that wows everyone!” excitement aside, there was a clear strain in her voice: the mood in the room didn’t feel carefree like it had before. “Lead the way,” Thomas nodded, following Eliza to the small room just off from the kitchen, a room with special hexagon angled walls. In it was, as of now, nothing but a cherry wood cabinet, filled partially with hand painted china. “Those books must be pretty important,” Thomas commented as Eliza opened the cabinet and she peered over her shoulder, brows furrowed, “Excuse me?” Carefully shutting the thin glass door, Eliza turned around. “Pretty important or pretty heavy if he needed John to help,” Thomas continued. Shaking her head slowly, Eliza took a step forward, chin up, “Yes, they are. Encyclopedias, one of them. What are you insinuating? That I have reason not to trust Alexander and John? You are speaking about the father of my child and a very dear friend of the family.” Focusing on the wall just past Eliza, Thomas squared his shoulders, arms crossed across his chest, “I apologize. It’s been a long day,” meeting Eliza’s glance once more, Thomas managed a look of indifference, then interest in the cabinet, “I would like to see the china up close.” Still, the mood was spoiled and Eliza couldn’t wait for Alexander and John to join them, to prove Thomas wrong so that he would quit looking over his shoulder for them after every other plate and individually designed and painted tea cup she showed him.

 

\-----

 

Meanwhile, in the room turned library, Alexander locked the door behind himself and John. “How are you going to find the books you’re looking for?” John asked, hazel eyes taking in the rows and rows of neatly organized books, one of the walls clearly being books chosen by Philip. Met with quiet, John frowned when he turned his head to see that Alexander was pacing, which always meant that he was going through a plan in his head one more time, one that, usually, he’d spent a considerable amount of time focusing on and figuring out before, then, laying it all out on a person all at once. It was almost always too much to take in, but the lawyer never liked to talk things out in easier to digest pieces. It was intense, but John was quick, so quick that he could interrupt Alexander before he’d already gone on to the next part of his argument or train of thought. Stopping to stand right in front of John, Alexander clasped his hands behind his back, “John, what the hell is going on? ‘ _You can call me sugar anytime, Thomas_ ’?” Dark eyes still, Alexander was giving him the chance to respond, but John felt himself overwhelmed with frustration and anger, partially sparked by his own words from earlier that afternoon being echoed back at him, partially brought on by the underlying feelings that Lafayette had exposed raw just the other night.

 

“What the hell is going on? You should know, you planned it!” Tears welling up in John’s eyes, as they often did against his wishes whenever he’d found himself in an argument he didn’t want to be in, John closed his eyes tight, willing them to dry before he continued on, “You _wanted_ this! You wanted it when you asked me to come along to Thomas’ place, you wanted it when, in the taxi on the way to his apartment, you asked me not to clock him in the face if he said something stupid! Well, he didn’t, it was nice. He treated me with respect and I- you wanted this!” Mind blank, Alexander was still: out of all of the reasons he’d come up with that John was behaving the way he was, somehow he’d managed to overlook what was perhaps the most blaringly obvious. “I can walk away from this, no problem, no skin off my nose, so why not? Thomas hasn’t complained and you-” Cutting himself off, John took a deep breath and hung his head low. He hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice with every word, he’d been so caught up in letting everything out in the open that he hadn’t noticed that Alexander looked pale, like he was going to be sick or, more likely, leave the room only to write John a ten page long letter later that evening outlining everything he wanted to say, picking out each detail of the conversation he opposed to. “You didn’t speak up when Thomas kissed me over that bottle of wine late last night,” he spoke evenly, frowning, “you shook your head and laughed. If, after the events of today, I’ve decided that I kind of like, you know, _this_ , is that going against your plan? You wanted me to end up deciding I hated his pompous ass? Make up your mind!” Voice coming closer to sounding calm, John rested his hand along Alexander’s jaw, noticing it was clenched tight, “Make up your mind… I made up my own, but I don’t want this to mess up our friendship because you don’t like to admit it when you’re wrong.”

 

“I was wrong,” hands itching to pull John into a hug, Alexander felt uncharacteristically fragile saying those three words, but he kept still, “I was wrong. After the divorce, I looked at you and I saw Eliza. I’m not the greatest at picking up on subtleties, but I saw your eyes light up when you looked at me and I couldn’t do it; I didn’t want to risk seeing that spark go out, but it did, because I waited. I didn’t want to believe it. It was really selfish of me, John. You waited for so long, I don’t know what for.” Battling a sinking feeling in his stomach, John didn’t understand why, but he felt like he had to be the strong one right now or risk them both shattering or saying something they didn’t mean. “Alexander, look at me,” voice even, he was relieved when dark eyes met his own, he wouldn’t have to ask twice, “I know. I said I’d wait and I meant it. Yeah, you’re damn right it hurts sometimes, it damn right does, but I string _myself_ along. Don’t be so goddamned self important.” Cracking a small smile, Alexander took a deep breath and John rested his forehead against Alexander’s, a trademark trouble-making grin across his lips, “If you think you’re keeping that man all to yourself, you are so wrong...unless you really don’t like the sugar-” Rolling his eyes, Alexander lifted his head to kiss John on the corner of his lips, “John? I trust you,” and then, tacked on, were another three words Alexander didn’t expect to come out of his mouth, “it’s your call.”


	12. Chapter 12

Descending the stairs, John held the two lighter books while Alexander carried the heavier encyclopedia; following the sound of Eliza’s sing song voice to the room just off of the kitchen, Alexander didn’t miss the way Eliza’s shoulders slumped in relief at the sight of himself and John. He guessed that Thomas had bombarded her with questions related to the china she’d been trying to show him but he wasn’t sure. Catching sight of Alexander, then John, Thomas’ expression shone concern. “John, your eyes are all puffy,” he muttered, taking a step closer to get a better look, to make sure the overhead lighting wasn’t playing tricks on him, casting shadows. Running his thumb across the cover of one of the books in the freckled man’s arms, he didn’t pick up any dust, crossing out his theory of allergies. “They are?” gently batting Thomas’ hand away from him, John laughed quietly. “John was-” Alexander interrupted, but John shot him a look and Alexander kept his mouth shut, jaw clenched, a silent ‘ _I dare you_ ’ exchanged between the two. “You were what?” Thomas asked and Eliza crowded around to Thomas’ other side, getting a good look for herself. “We can have a talk over a cup of tea,” she suggested, leaving Thomas’ side to join Philip in the dining room who, part way through his math homework, was calling over to her for help with a particularly difficult fractions problem.

 

Puzzled, Thomas would have put on his sunglasses had they been outside: after, as a lawyer, being told that, when genuinely nervous, his eyes tended to dance around, as if to be searching for answers everywhere from the floor to the ceiling, he’d been extra conscience of how he appeared when under any sort of pressure. Turning his back to the open doorway, effectively hiding however he was feeling to anyone but John and Alexander who both turned to face him, Thomas leaned in closer to the two men, keeping his voice down, “What is it? Did you receive any bad news? Are you sick? Do we need to leave?” Pulling no answers from John, only an averted gaze, Thomas narrowed his eyes, looking to Alexander, then back to John, “Alexander?” “Yes?” he quirked an eyebrow. “Why don’t you see if Eliza needs any help? John, do you have a temperature?” noting the pink tinge to John’s cheeks, Thomas feared for the worst: maybe being outside for so long in the sun while he’d been caught signing autographs for those kids had caught up to him- he did notice that John had felt warm when his arm had been around his own. “I just need to sit down,” John confirmed, honestly feeling dizzy between Thomas’ prying and Alexander’s energy, it all had come together to feel suffocating. Knowing how severe overheating could be from his experiences performing at outdoor festivals and witnessing a good number of people fainting from it, Thomas knew the signs and knew that tea wouldn’t be enough; the tea would still need to cool down. “Eliza?” turning on his heel, Thomas repeated her name again when she didn’t respond, too into whatever it was that Alexander was whispering to her. “One moment, Thomas,” she held up a finger, “now what was it you were saying, dear?” About to just reach out and open the fridge himself, John came up from behind him and placed a hand on his arm and shook his head, “Hey, it’s alright. Chill. Come with me outside? I just need some air.”

 

\-----

 

John navigated Eliza’s home easily, having spent many days and evenings there. “Eliza set up a picnic table in the backyard,” John explained after a few moments of silence, Thomas trailing close behind him, “I helped her pick it out last summer.” Unlocking the door, then the screen door that came after, John lead Thomas into the small backyard surrounded by a wall of high wooden fences. With perfectly groomed grass and a patch of tulips brightening up the space around a little clubhouse originally built for Philip but which now contained gardening supplies, it was comfortable, lacking the looming feeling of a lack of privacy or danger that most outdoor spaces, especially at night, tended to come with. Following John to the cozy six person table, Thomas tried to see if John looked to feel better already, but it was difficult to tell with the only hints of light around being caused by light pollution from the city and the dim streams of gold coming from the house. “We only have a few minutes,” John smirked, breaking the silence as they sat down beside one another, “Alexander’s too damn nosy to wait inside for too long. I would know because I’m the king of being nosy,” he laughed and Thomas smiled, “Pays to be nosy when you’re a lawyer.” Sitting forward, Thomas rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together, “How’re you feeling?” Shrugging a shoulder, John drummed his fingers on the tabletop, “Fine. Thomas, you ever want to be chill with something so bad that one thing goes wrong and then everything feels wrong? Ever wrote a song about that?” Armed with a smooth grin, John tried to keep his cool, see how vague he could be; it wasn’t like him to be vague: John was loud, electric when he was at his best, but that same electricity could drive him into a sobbing mess and the last thing he wanted was to put Thomas in the position of having to try to calm him down. He was raw, but, without a shield of thick skin like most of his friends seemed to have, jagged. Still, he refused to lie. Alexander wanted him to lie, but Alexander had also been the one to say ‘ _it’s your call_ ’.

 

“Welcome to the wonderful world of dating someone for mutual fame reasons and nothing else. And, no, I didn’t write a song about it,” Jefferson shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, “James, my musical partner, and I used to be signed to a label whose main focus was to get us into the public eye. Nothing wrong with that, except the music took a backseat to the drama. Every week it was something else and every week nobody paid attention, so some head suit decided that he’d use one of their best selling artists and bring James and I up by claiming I was dating her. Oh, man, she was all into it, she lived for the online gossip forums. The label kept me in it with threats that nobody would give James and I’s music a chance if they knew I was _gay_. It’s funny,” he mused, “even after five years, I don’t feel comfortable just saying it. I have to psych myself up. After half a year, James… Jemmy, he’s too good. I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like Jemmy. He puts up with so much,” catching himself in a rant, Thomas raised a hand apologetically and continued, “After half a year, James took me to the side and said he refused to sign the papers to renew our contract with the label- he made that decision because what little cash we were raking in wasn’t worth it for him to see me trying to play a part. Shit… I felt guilty. The man works hard and here he just gave what could have been it all up just for me. Me and her, we’re cool now, but it took a lot of thinking to decide that I wasn’t going to namedrop her in any of my music. It wasn’t her fault, you know? And, frankly, it’s nobody’s damn business.” Coming back around to John’s question, Thomas rested a hand on top of John’s own, putting a stop to his nervous drumming, “What’s wrong? I don’t know if I give great advice, but, hey, I can try.”

 

Following Thomas’ story, John shook his head and laughed, “I don’t know anyone who reads those gossip magazines at the record shops aside from my friend Lafayette. He loves that stuff, but even he only reads it if it’s right there when he’s bored and waiting in a line.” Glancing towards the door, John reminded himself that they might only have a couple more minutes to themselves, “Just hear me out,” he began, scooting his chair closer to Thomas, “I’m not here to shit talk one of my closest friends. I love Alexander, but-” “But?” Humm in his voice, Thomas seemed nervous. “But, ever since the divorce, he treats relationships like legal contracts.” Swallowing, John wasn’t sure what was pushing him to keep talking, but anger was a good guess. “I told that to Lafayette, my friend, and he said that that sounds like an excuse that I made up to explain this, but-” uncomfortable with Thomas’ unbreaking eye contact even as his sentences trailed off and jumped around, John shrugged and looked away towards the ground, “He never told me that he couldn’t hug me outside the apartment because-” frustrated, John was suddenly all too aware that Thomas’ hand was still resting on his own, squeezing after every couple of words for support, “Long story short, he never told me that he’s pushed me away whenever it’s been convenient for him because he doesn’t want to risk seeing me hurt like Eliza was. He told me that I had some kind of same look in my eye, sparkle, whatever. Whatever. He got what he wanted though, I told him I’d wait.”

 

Trying to follow along despite the breaks in the story, Thomas tilted his head in question. He knew that there had to be more to the story that John wasn’t ready to tell, didn’t want to tell or didn’t know how to tell. “Yeah, I don’t follow,” Thomas spoke, straight forward, “sounds to me like a mess.” Frowning, John’s eyes flickered up towards the sky, “I can’t help it if I’ve ever done anything to remind him of Eliza. Eliza and I get along really well, we vibe, but, guess what? Alexander was the one who kissed me first once the divorce papers were filed.  Whatever, that was last year.” Hazel eyes narrowed, John finally dared to face Thomas, see if he looked like he wanted to get out of the conversation, but he still looked to be engaged in the conversation, present. “So, here comes the advice,” Thomas drawled with a smirk in an attempt to lift the mood, “I think the ball is in his court now, doll. If he’s going to blame you for having nice eyes, he’s either going to have to work that out on his own end or let you know that he values you as a friend and that’s all. It’s a win win if done right,” he said, unsure where this conversation was putting either of them, “I’m particularly fond of Alexander…”

 

“And me?” feeling a bit foolish for it, John still felt he’d be damned if he’d had this personal of a conversation with Thomas and hadn’t found out how Thomas felt regarding it all. “You sure know how to take a guy’s walls down,” Thomas responded, raising his eyebrows as if he couldn’t believe it himself; James would have been impressed. “In the taxi this afternoon, I was thinking; I’d like to kiss you sometime, not over a bottle of wine.” Bravado aside, John could hear the trace of unease in Thomas’ voice: this wasn’t a conversation Thomas was used to having.

 

“Then do it.” Voice unwavering, John wanted to keep a straight face, remain bold, but he found himself breaking out in laughter upon noticing that Thomas looked equally as focused, “Right here, right now! Shit, man, I’m just messing around. If my eyes didn’t swell up before I’ve even shed a damn tear, we wouldn’t be having this sappy conversation. What is this, _The Notebook_?” Crossing his ankle over his knee, John leaned back in his chair, only to be taken completely off guard when, the next thing he knew, Thomas had stood, crossing the short distance over to him to catch John in a kiss, quick as it was, fingers curled through John’s hair even as they parted. “Right here, right now,” Thomas smirked, “not exactly what I had in mind, but-” Quick to respond, John’s eyes were so see through, dancing, and Thomas wondered if this was the look Alexander had described, “What, did you plan out an entire evening in that taxi or what?” Glaring pointedly, an act to buy himself time to play it cool, Thomas refused to blurt out anything else that John could use to throw back at him, show the Southerner how cheesy he could get, but it was hard when the man was looking at him that way, with that ‘dare you’ grin. Leaning in close, Thomas snorted when John had closed his eyes, thinking he was going in to kiss him again. A cool gust of wind passing over, Thomas stepped back, grabbed his coat from where it hung over the back of his chair and pulled it on with a smirk, turning to walk back towards the house, “We better get back inside before you catch a chill, doll.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to get a look at John to know that he’d thrown his arms up in full dramatics before following suit, trudging behind Thomas.

 

Catching up, he gripped Thomas’ shoulder as he’d pulled open the door. Not to be outdone, John slipped past Thomas and through the screen door and, next, the main door, “Just wait until I tell Alex!” Playing like he was about to run the entire way back to the kitchen to tattle, Thomas caught up to him eventually, but not before having to watch out not to trip over any potted plants or decorations along the way, the lights along the hallway and most of the rooms along the way being off. Close to the kitchen, John tried not to laugh as Thomas caught up to him and slowed down, “No running in the house!” he whispered, eyes tearing up: it’d been way too funny, the look on Thomas’ face when John had taken a turn and lead him in a circle. Leaning back against the hall, John watched as Thomas straightened out his jacket and fixed his windblown hair blindly with his hands; cracking up, he didn’t bother trying to muffle his laugh this time. “What?” He didn’t know what was so funny about trying to look presentable, but John’s laughter was contagious, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk back in there and-” “And what? Tell them I’m cured?” Voice swinging up in surprise, John hadn’t realized that Philip was listening in near the start of the hall until he’d spotted Philip running off, jumping up and down, calling for Alexander and Eliza’s attention, “John feels better! Dad, John’s better!”

 

Motioning for John to follow him out from the hall, Thomas took a break from the joking around and rested a hand at the small of John’s back, “It’s been a long day. Don’t stress, we can bounce after a round of tea.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Hamilton, what’s the deal today? We need to stay focused,” resting his head in his palm, George Washington shook his head, pacing around the back room of the courthouse, “I know you like to get personal, but I don’t think that the man fighting for his rights to build a higher fence in his backyard needs to hear about the correlation between building fences and building walls between oneself and others- what was that? Now, I know that you feel this case is a waste of time, that it shouldn’t be in a courtroom this high up, but the fact is that he gave every other court a hard time and now he’s come to us to help!” Sighing, Washington stopped pacing directly in front of Alexander, “Do we need to ask the court to reconvene tomorrow? I want this done right.”

 

“Put it off until next week, I have work to do,” Alexander said, having his turn to pace, gathering an armful of stray papers he’d spread around and across the table, shuffling them together to pack away, “can you get me the office keys? I’m going to pull an all nighter to get ahead on a couple of projects.” Watching his adoptive son make his rounds around the room, stuffing document upon document into his messenger bag, Washington sighed, “That will be the third time this week,” he pointed out, “I need you to be at your best for the meeting with the lawyers flying in from California tomorrow.” Scoffing, Hamilton finished stuffing his messenger bag full and turned around, defiant, “I’ve worked overtime for weeks in a row before, I can handle a fourth night.”

 

“Take a break!”

 

Stopping in his tracks, Alexander couldn’t believe what he was hearing; and, looking up at George who gave him an apologetic smile, Hamilton could feel his blood boil. Strolling in from the door behind him as if he owned the place, cardboard holder with three coffees in it on hand, was Lafayette. Great. Just what he needed: two people to rag on him about how badly he needed to chill out until he’d gotten so annoyed that he swore off staying after hours for an entire week: it always seemed to work out that way. “Get out,” he grumbled, making it a point to ignore the way Lafayette was readjusting Washington’s tie, complementing his choice of suit, “this is a private courtroom! Security will hear from me for letting you in. If they let you in, who else would they let in without invitation?” Lafayette was his friend, but Hamilton couldn’t stand the way he seemed to show up every other day or so, almost always in a room or section of the building that was supposed to be reserved for government workers only. The bundle of rage personified thought he’d explode when, ignoring his questions, Lafayette went on to compliment Washington on his hair, “What are you talking about? He’s bald!” Acknowledging him for the first time since he’d told him to get out, Lafayette turned around, cocking an eyebrow, “Yes, I am aware, but do you know how much work it takes to maintain the style? No? Well, I do, I scoured the internet to find Mr. Washington here a better product, if you must know.” Patting the Frenchman on the shoulder, George wasn’t hesitant but he was not in the mood to be the witness to a petty argument between Hamilton who’d been stressed since the moment he’d walked in the door this morning and Lafayette who seemed more than ready to fight over his superior knowledge of hair products. Side eying Hamilton, Lafayette huffed before meeting eyes with Washington, “You could at least tell him that you put my name on the list, no? I don’t want to deal with security checking my pockets and ID every time I come in again at his request.” Scrunching up his nose, Alexander had heard bits of Lafayette’s whispering and he pieced the rest together, “You put him on a list? That explains everything! I knew there was no way you sprayed your office with rose water, sir! I was going to ask you if you had hired a personal decorator when the orchid arrangements came in for your desk. I should have known it was _you-_ you and your rose water!” Hamilton rolled his eyes and Lafayette laughed, “Me and my rose water! And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you and- what was the rest?” hinting for either George or Alexander to fill in the blank, Lafayette rolled his eyes right back at Hamilton when neither of the men acknowledged his try at a classic _Scooby Doo_ reference. Patting Lafayette on the back, George’s brows were furrowed, sympathetic to Alexander’s concerns, “I have business to attend to with Mr. Hamilton before I leave for the afternoon. I appreciate the coffee, but I would appreciate it if you would wait in the lobby until we’ve finished.” Understanding that allowing work to come first came with seeing the head of New York’s most esteemed law firm, Lafayette didn’t argue. Instead, he gave George a quick hug before opening his arms to give Alexander the same goodbye. “I should have known that was you, too. Where do you even buy so much rose water?” Alexander muttered into Lafayette’s ear before they’d parted and he laughed, making a show of leaving the room.

 

“You know he never shuts up about how, someday, he could legally be considered my father, right?” Alexander said, trying his best to stay serious and not to crack a smile when Washington nodded uncomfortably, trying to get back to the subject they were discussing prior to Lafayette’s interruption. “Funny guy,” he acknowledged, “back to business. Son, I need you to sort out your disagreements with Laurens. He has been texting me nonstop, he doesn’t let a man sleep! I thought he was cutting me a break when the text messages stopped at midnight last night but he was back on it at nine in the morning this morning. I need you to sort out your disagreements so that you can get your head back in the game while at work.”

 

“I separate my person and work lives just fine,” Alexander argued, setting down his messenger bag: he had a feeling they’d be here a while, “you’re just afraid to go over your phone’s data limit.”

 

Tilting his head, George smiled, “You’ve got me on that one, but hear me out, Alexander: if you would let me know what’s going on, you could clear your conscience and, therefore, have more energy to spend on work. You wouldn’t need to pull a fourth overnighter. Think of all of the work you could get done.” Washington knew that that was all he had to say to have Alexander nodding in thought, then, in agreement. “From the top.” Going over the events of the roller coaster that began with that fateful subway ride with Philip, Alexander didn’t spare any details and George didn’t interrupt him once, knowing that cutting him off would likely have Alexander starting from the beginning of the story all together again or putting an end to the conversation out of frustration: he didn’t enjoy admitting to having feelings that conflicted, he felt it was a bad trait to have as a lawyer, nevermind that it was human. Careful to appear too concerned in case it’d have the same effect as an interruption, George swallowed, waiting for Alexander to prompt him for a response. Fifteen minutes later and it seemed he was done, “So, that’s what’s going on.”

 

“So John kissed Thomas last night-”

 

“That’s what I said,” Alexander said, temper short, “I talked to Thomas and it was nothing. For all I know, he was checking John’s temperature and doesn’t want to admit that he isn’t all ego.” Clicking his tongue at the back of his teeth, Hamilton shrugged, “This isn’t about Thomas and I.”

 

“Noted.” Treading lightly, Washington continued, “Let us continue to talk about this as professionals, like adults: John has expressed to me that he felt blindsided. However, he has also expressed to me that he now feels as if he has a much clearer picture of your friendship… he’s waiting for you to acknowledge him, Alexander. Now, wait-” Stepping forward when he noticed the twitch in Hamilton’s jaw, he was going to finish saying his piece, “John needs you to acknowledge him, out loud or in letter form, to tell him that he is very dear to you… as you used to. John has shown me portions of the letters. He has expressed to me, effectively keeping me up late and then waking me up early this morning, might I add, that his conversation with Thomas last night was eye opening, uplifting. Now is your chance to validate your support for John as well. Have him know that you hold your friendship close. I must say, when you’re comfortable, I would like to have my chance to meet this Thomas Jefferson again. According to Laurens, he’s quite the upstanding man; quite different from the man with an air of celebrity whom I met at Rochambeau.”

 

“Sir, give me the office keys. I’ll talk to John before work but I really want to get into the office later tonight or early tomorrow morning to get a head start.” Holding out a hand to shake, Washington shook his hand, “Deal,” and handed Hamilton the ring of keys, nodding a ‘goodbye’, “have a nice rest of the afternoon, Hamilton.”

 

\----

 

“Tell me how much you love me again, I liked that part!”

 

Flustered, Hamilton unfolded the letter he’d penned the moment he got home, a good hour before Laurens had came back in through the door, and read the sentence in question for the fourth time, “Therefore, it is with utmost respect of your character and honesty with myself, that I wish to remind you that, all the more with each day- my dearest Laurens, my dearest friend, I love you.”

 

Met with a round of applause, Alexander did his best to appear tired behind his dark circled eyes when, most of all, he felt relief, as if a boulder had rolled off of his shoulders. Making himself comfortable on the couch, Thomas had, by John’s invite, arrived to witness the re-reading of the letter a couple of minutes prior, “What was that part about John’s eyes sparkling like the ocean surrounding the Statue of Liberty?” cracking a shiteating grin, Thomas blew a kiss to Alexander as John wiped away tears from laughing so hard for the second time since Thomas had arrived. Clearing his throat for dramatic effect, Alexander searched out that portion of the letter, “My dearest Laurens- penning this letter, I am reminded of how lucky we are to have met in this city of thousands- that, of course, with eyes that dance with all that makes this city great, magnetic, you would be brought here eventually. Like the oceans surrounding our lady of liberty, your eyes are not to be paled in comparison, but are equal.” Folding the letter into fours, Alexander held the piece of thick office grade paper out to John. Accepting the letter, John slipped it into his jean jacket’s pocket and rose from the couch, enveloping Alexander in a hug, “Thank you,” nuzzling his nose in the crook of Hamilton’s shoulder, John kept his voice down, “now go take Thomas out to the ice cream shop two blocks down. Trust me,” he laughed as he noticed Thomas was eying the ceiling, trying not to impose on their moment, “I’m nosy, I checked his freezer and the guy lives for the stuff. Just bring me back something so you can tell me all about it after. Bet you five dollars he’s going to order strawberry." Smirking, Alexander wasn't surprised, "Of course you did. Five dollars, it's a bet."


	14. Chapter 14

“If it’s too cold, we don’t have to get ice cream-”

“Well, John wants me to bring him back some.”

“Oh?” Raising an eyebrow, Thomas cracked a smile: only this strange, strange man he’d met on the subway could say something like that and not even realize the humor in it. Here they were, going on something that he’d like to call and consider a date, just minutes after he’d sat and listened to Alexander recite complete poetry to his best friend and roommate, laced with flowery language at every corner and, yet, it was just another day. Despite thinking that, going through law school, working as a lawyer and then diving straight into the music business, he’d seen it all, that he couldn’t be shocked, Thomas felt as if even the simple everyday moments he’d spent with this man were something else, something all their own. “Well, I suppose we could get ice cream, but I was thinking we could make a pitstop at your office first. John texted me two minutes ago. He wanted me to let you know that Washington texted him and let him know that A, your phone must be off and B, you forgot your computer in the courtroom, so your dad locked it up in your office for you.”

Digging his phone out from his pocket, Alexander realized that Washington was right, he had forgotten to turn his phone back on after leaving work. Switching it on, the screen flashed with five unopened messages: one from Thomas, three from Washington and one from Philip. “I used to keep my phone on but on silent while in court, but, one day I accidentally switched it over to vibrate instead and Philip was blowing up my phone. That was the week Eliza and I got him a phone for safety reasons when, last year, he was in an afterschool program, so he was going overboard with the texts.” Clicking through the texts, he typed out a couple of quick responses, knowing that Thomas was looking over his shoulder, reading them all. Getting to the message that Thomas had sent him last, Alexander smiled, clicking the lock button on his phone and slipping it back into his pocket, “Thanks for asking if you could come over and sit in for the poem before coming over.” Draping an arm around Thomas’ waist because there was no way he was going to even try to attempt the taller male’s shoulders, Thomas was a split second slow in his response, taken by surprise: it had always been himself reaching to hold Hamilton before that moment. “Yeah- yeah, I waited for a response but John told me it was cool.”

 

\----

 

Turning the key to his office, Alexander had to muster up all of the kindness left inside of him when he was overcome with annoyance. It would be just his luck that the one person he knew that put John to shame in the rankings of being nosy (as if he himself had any room to talk) not only occupied the office next door, but had decided to stay late and was just on their way to leave for the late afternoon when Alexander and Thomas had almost just gotten into Alexander’s office. “Hey, now, there’s word going around the firm that you’re the reason why Theodosia isn’t allowed to come in before I’m off work anymore.”

Huffing, Hamilton turned to face the man known as Aaron Burr: high climbing lawyer and the current Employee of the Month. “And I had good reason to file that complaint. Read to the bottom of the notice and you will see that, under reasoning, I’d listed ‘distraction’. If I was trying to be a dick, I would have also listed you as a danger to the company: don’t think I didn’t notice that you weren’t finished locking up all of your legal paperwork before she walked in the door a couple of times.” Rattling off at the mouth, Alexander’s voice was even, almost taunting in how it hardly raised and fell in volume, and Aaron’s eyes narrowed, “Now, are we done? I have business to attend to.”

“Hey, hey, I wasn’t looking to fight, Alexander, I was only making small talk. You don’t show up at the water cooler like everyone else, how else are we supposed to talk about anything other than the cases we’re on?” Easy smile, Burr turned his attention over to Jefferson who stood aside, completely disconnected from the two men’s argument aside from the way he kept his palm pressed to the small of Hamilton’s back. “Speaking of distractions, who is this? Do I need to write my own complaint?”

“This is Thomas and I don’t think it’s in your best interest to file a complaint. I’m off the clock, so you can’t get me for that; my work is filed away, and Thomas here has a visitor’s pass. I’m getting my computer and then we’re leaving.”

Burr didn’t need to push hard to get a reaction out of Hamilton; to him, this was fun. “And why does Thomas need to come with to get your computer?”

Had Jefferson not reached over to hold his hand in that moment, Alexander feared he’d actually bend the key he had grasped in his fist. Cooling down, it finally clicked that Burr was just messing with him again. “Because we’re on a date and this was a stop on the way. Burr, if you don’t believe me, you can watch me pick up my laptop from the doorway, but we have somewhere to be, so, if you’re done messing around, we have to go.”

Passing Thomas a look, Burr shook his head with a laugh: Thomas’ expression was neutral though and, while it was clear that he was standing beside Alexander’s ranting, he didn’t say a word, quiet for someone who, in his music, was the epitome of loud. Parking himself beside the doorway, Aaron crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, taking Alexander up on his offer. Going straight for his laptop, which Washington had already packed away in it’s case; always one to pay attention to the smallest of details, Alexander didn’t even have to readjust the case’s straps because Washington knew that he liked the straps to be pulled all of the way through, Alexander and Thomas were in and out of his office in less than two minutes flat, not nearly enough time for Thomas to get a good look at the space. Locking his office back up, Alexander said goodbye to Burr on the grounds of remaining professional, and they were on their way.

 

Texting Theodosia that he was on his way home, Burr locked up his own office, briefcase in his other hand, when, walking down the hall, he stepped on a piece of folded up yellow lined paper. Bending down to pick it up, a big smile spread across his face as he set down his briefcase and unfolded the page. Torn at the top from being torn out of a big pad of paper, the lawyer eyed the name scrawled at the top: Thomas Jefferson. The name rung a bell now that he’d heard it in full, but he couldn’t exactly place where he’d heard it. In handwriting that was a mixture of singular letters and rushed cursive with lines of the text scratched out by a black marker and recomposed, he, at first, thought that he was looking at a poem, only to reread it and, putting two and two together, realizing that he was reading a rap. An unfinished rap, but a rap nonetheless. Pulling up the internet on his phone, Burr entered ‘Thomas Jefferson music’ and a photo of the man Alexander had briefly introduced him to popped up. Briefly scanning a small biography of the man, Burr was pleased to see that he was a local rapper, the portion detailing an album was set to come out soon from Thomas and James Madison particularly piquing his interest: the website said that few details were known about the to be released project. In other words, Burr wondered if he’d just struck gold. “I could sell this to the local papers…” he whispered out loud to himself, unfolding the page one more time to read it over once more before he’d secure it in his briefcase with the thought that he wouldn’t take it out until he was handing it over to the papers, like he was holding onto a winning lottery ticket.

 

 

\----

 

Having made it to the ice cream shop, Alexander was relieved that they’d managed to come at a time when the line, for once, wasn’t out the door. Claiming a table in the far corner of the shop, Alexander would try to save himself from losing the bet with John one more time, the first time having been while they were choosing at the counter: “Are you sure you don’t want any of this coconut icecream? I like strawberry, we could trade.”

Looking up from his ice cream, Thomas met eyes with Alexander, “I wouldn’t have cared if you wanted the same kind, Alexander. We can both like strawberry. Not everything has to be a contest, doll.” And then he dug his spoon back into the ice cream and Alexander piped up, “I have a bet with John!” Setting down the spoon, Thomas laughed, confused, “What? What kind of bet?” Dipping his own spoon into Thomas’ ice cream before he’d even had a bite yet, Alexander shrugged, “John bet me that you would order strawberry ice cream.” “And? What do you win if you win this bet?” “Five dollars,” shrugging again, Alexander smirked, rotating their cups before sitting back down. Blinking, Thomas took in Alexander’s grin: the guy thought he’d won, and threw his arms up in defeat. “Ok, alright, cool, that’s cool. I don’t like coconut, but that’s cool.” Smirking around the spoon, Alexander held his wallet out to him, “Then buy something else, it’s on me. It’s not royalties money, but it’s worth the same,” he teased, using Thomas’ line he’d used on him the day they met on the subway. Turning in his chair to look at the line which had picked up again and was now running out the door, the rapper didn’t take him up on the offer, “John bet that I would order strawberry ice cream. Why don’t you mix the strawberry the coconut and make a strawberry coconut ice cream? You would still win by default.” Considering Thomas’ idea, Alexander looked down at the dessert which, the longer they waited, the more it melted, and decided that, if anything, he’d only be losing half of the bet, “Here, I’ll mix them and you can have the whole thing. I don’t like ice cream.” Dumbfounded, Thomas couldn’t let his guard down with this guy: “You invited me out for ice cream when you don’t even like it?” Mixing the two together evenly, Alexander nodded, setting the empty cup to the side, “John bet me.” Accepting the cup when Alexander scooted it his way, Thomas felt his face heat up and he looked away, hoping Alexander wouldn’t notice, “My god, you’re-”

“I’m what?”

“Something else.”


	15. Chapter 15

_[Royal Pain]_ : I want you to represent me in court.

 _[Royal Pain]_ : Ask John.

 _[Royal Pain]_ : Alexander?

 

By the time Alexander had gotten to his phone and opened the texts, he could hear John from the bedroom, rolling out of bed, running to the door and whipping it open, “Yo, Alex!” he called out into the living room, relieved to see that he was already up from his nap on the couch, “Thomas is going to kick Burr’s ass!” Tone filled with just as much excitement as it was with worry, John plopped down onto the couch beside Alexander and pulled up the webpage of the local paper where, printed as a mini story a few pages in, was an article with the title ‘ _Local Rapper Isn’t Happy Stealing Only the Girls_ ’. Mouth gone dry, Alexander began to read the article written by one of the paper’s pop culture authors; from the start, he had been planning out courses of action in his head, how Thomas could either ignore or refute this, until the paragraph of text came to an end and, below it, explicitly stated as having been uncovered by an anonymous source posing under the name ‘a.bur’, was a block of lyrics, next to it a photograph of a piece of yellow notepad paper with the same words scrawled across, but in Thomas’ handwriting. Just as he’d finished reading, his phone rang and Alexander, seeing it was Thomas, picked it up.

 

“Alexander, doll, I need you to do me a favor.”

Shushing John who had tried to lean in close to pick up pieces of their phone conversation, Alexander sighed, “Thomas, I’m telling you right now that I know you know better than to think that I’m suitable to be your lawyer. Taking this to court wouldn’t look good for anybody. First of all, it would singlehandedly put a stain on Mr. Burr’s image and, while I don’t object to that happening, it wouldn’t look good for the firm as a whole. Washington has been sending Burr on more cases than ever as of late and exposing Burr’s childish action would cast a shadow on Washington’s judgement. Then there is the issue of how important is this article, truly, in the grand scheme of things? Taking Burr to court over rumors will only serve to have you looking guilty of… such things. Listen, Thomas, I think a simple, sarcastic, humorous status on your preferred social media platform in response to the article should do the trick.” Alexander’s long winded response was met with silence, it only being clear that Thomas was still on the line because Alexander could hear background noise coming from his end. “Thomas? I’m giving you my best advice, advice I wouldn’t use myself, but that’s how I know it’s the reasonable thing to do. Washington would approve.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, but I can just see it now: Burr would show up with the visitors records and prove that you were visiting the firm on the exact date that the lyric page is dated. We’re competitive, he would out me to get the upperhand. Neither of us would win by bringing him into the courtroom.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

“Thomas?” Brows furrowed, Alexander couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he could hear James’ voice in the background along with the loud bustling of people and clinking of glasses, “I would prefer we continue this conversation in person.”

“Alexander?” Southern drawl drawn out, there was a pause before Thomas continued, “Do you have Mr. Burr’s address?”

“I’m not giving you Aaron’s address, that’s unprofessional. Get me James on the phone, I can hear him in the background, I want to hear what he has to say about this situation.”

“So you have his address. Suppose I only want to talk?” Ignoring Alexander’s request to speak to James, judging by the gradual quieting of the background noise, it sounded to Alexander like Thomas was leaving whatever building he’d been in.

“Suppose you want to break his jaw? Thomas, I’m not handing over an esteemed colleague of mine’s address. Please, I would like to speak to James or with you in person. In fact, I hereby refuse to further engage in a conversation on this matter unless it is done face to face.”

“Hey, don’t talk to me like that, that lawyer speak. I know what I’m asking.” Exhaling a deep breath, Thomas voice fell in volume, “I apologize. Mind if I come over?” Break in the connection, when Thomas was back, his tone was riddled with annoyance, “James followed me out of the damn bar.”

Sitting up straight, Hamilton was happy with this turn of events, “Great! Yes, come over, and, please, extend my invitation to James, I feel his input will be of importance as the article affected his career by extension.”

 

\----

 

“Hey, why do I gotta skip town? This is our apartment, not your office. How do you know I wouldn’t give Thomas some good advice?” knocking at the  top of the coffeemaker with a big spoon, the machine was on it’s last legs, but sometimes John and Alex managed to get it to start up that way. “Thomas gave me some good advice the other night, I owe him.” Peering out the kitchen window, Alexander watched as Thomas and James approached the entrance door; they didn’t appear to be arguing, but, still, Alexander wasn’t completely confident in how this talk would turn out, “John, please?” he didn’t look over his shoulder, gaze still out the window. Clasping a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, John nodded, “Ok, man. I’ll be in the bedroom playing some videogames if they ask or you need me.” Turning to face him as he went on his way, Alexander sighed, “Thank you,” just in time for there to be knocking on the door.

 

\----

 

“The nerve of that asshole, picking a pseudonym that close to his actual name. He wanted us to know it was him!” Running his hands through his hair, Thomas didn’t know what was worse: that lyrics written off the top of his head in a moment of confidence and ego had been printed and presented as being already polished and ready to go, that the rumors pertaining to his preference that swarmed around the local music circles already now had physical evidence to back up the talk, or that he’d agreed to show up to Alexander’s place to talk it all over, James in tow, after having had too much to drink. Coughing into his elbow, James excused himself from the kitchen table, where be bought himself some time away from the conversation. Putting on his glasses, Alexander always had a stack of loose leaf notebook paper out on the table for whenever he or John may need it and, not one to waste time, he grabbed a couple of pages from the stack and scooted his chair closer to Thomas and leaned over the page, scribbling out a couple of sentences in blue pen. “First, I want us to come to an agreement before we map out a course of action,” continuing to scrawl out his proposition, Alexander didn’t lift pen from paper until he’d finished with drawing a line with an ‘x’ ahead of it, a space for Thomas to sign. “This,” he sat back, sliding the page over in front of the rapper, “is a document I want you to sign promising that, while I intend to help sort out this problem in any way I can, you understand that taking Mr. Burr to court is not an option.” Glossed over eyes scanning the page, Thomas had to crack a small smile as he accepted the pen Hamilton was holding out to him expectantly and signed the page, “There.”

Sliding the page into a green folder for safe keeping, Alexander began another sheet, dating it at the top in time for James to return and sit back down, “James, while you were away, Thomas took the liberty of signing a document acknowledging that we will not be taking Mr. Burr to court, would you like to view said document before we continue?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. What are you writing down now?” Curious, James took Thomas’ noticeably calmer demeanor as a good sign of how things were going. Scratching out a couple of lines, Alexander continued to write and Thomas sighed, carefully tugging the ponytail out from Alexander’s hair and tossing it to the kitchen floor, zoning out while Hamilton wrote and he carded his fingers through his hair, “How much gel do you use?” Glancing up at Thomas from above his glasses, Alexander sat up straight, “Thomas, concentrate! Now, here, I’ve written what I think to be the most appropriate of responses to the situation,” placing the paper between where James and Thomas sat so that they could both read it at once, Alexander tapped at the first sentence with the cap end of the pen, “Claim the lyric to be misinterpreted. Any true fan should be able to tell that these weren’t finished, ready to debut, lyrics. Add a ‘haha’ at the end and the listeners will laugh along with you. If you’re asked about the rumors in interviews, throw a comedy spin on the story, say that you were just as surprised as the readers were after reading that article.” Quick as he was to pen it all down, not one of the three men gathered around the table felt comfortable with the plan. For James, it meant aiding in and having a direct hand in further closeting one of his closest friends and musical collaborators; for Thomas it was a lie that could damn his reputation further later on if he ever felt his position in the business was secure enough to come out, and, for Alexander, the effects of the plan would ring similar in his own way. He’d often been accused by those in the know of, even after their divorce, hiding behind his and Eliza’s close relationship.

 

“Sounds great,” Thomas broke the silence, though his tone lacked excitement. “I don’t know about this,” James shifted in his seat, “sometimes honesty is the best policy. Own up to it but laugh off the lyrics. You know, save your reputation for writing polished rhymes while coming out.”

 

Fingers in Alexander’s hair halting, Thomas blinked, taking a good moment to acknowledge what James had just said, “Own up to it? Anyone who wants to say shit to my face can get a free meeting with my fist,” Thomas scowled and Alexander’s face flushed, “I’ll own up to it after your career isn’t in danger because of you being associated. Own up to it…” Cooling down, he continued to run his hand through Hamilton’s hair, “I’m sorry, Jemmy, but I can’t do that to you.” Clasping his hands together on the table ahead of him, James looked Thomas right in the eyes, voice steady, “Thomas, you’ve been in a better mood since meeting Alexander than I’ve seen you in in years. We’ve gotten more work done and we get into less arguments. I don’t think it’s just a coincidence.” Swallowing, Thomas knew that he had to have looked like a deer in headlights sat between James preaching his typical straight-forward honesty and Alexander whom he could feel go still. Starting a new page, Alexander reached for the blue pen, but Thomas grabbed it first, “So I’m an asshole inside the closet, less of an asshole outside of it?” Pursing his lips in thought, Thomas gave up the pen to Alexander. “Taking your concerns into consideration, I have another option,” Hamilton spoke up, writing this one down, too, “you have the option to niether confirm it nor deny it. Comment on the lyrics being a demo and laugh it off in one simple status online, instead.” “Sounds good to me,” James nodded and Thomas was next to agree, “I’ll write something out tomorrow morning.” “Well, then it is all settled. If you two would sign the lines below, we can consider this a deal.”

 

\----

 

Soon after signing the piece of notebook paper, James had called a cab home and Thomas was left deciding what to do next, having decided not to join him. “So, where’s John?” he asked, following Alexander to the fridge where he’d been handed a water bottle. Getting a bottle for himself, Alexander closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, “John’s in the bedroom playing video games on his phone.” Opening the water bottle, Thomas pressed a kiss to Alexander’s lips and Alexander could smell the still bold scent of alcohol on Jefferson’s breath. “I’d like it if you stayed on the couch tonight, it’s late,” he said, returning the kiss.

“On the couch?” Straightening his shoulders, Alexander took a half step away from Thomas when he was startled by John’s interruption, “Thomas!” Nudging Jefferson in the arm, John smiled wide, “I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed. It’s all good, I have some TV I want to catch up on.” Greeting John, Thomas closed the little space between himself and Alexander, arm resting heavy around Hamilton’s waist, but it was Alexander who answered to John’s offer, shaking his head, “That can-” “The bed?” Thomas interrupted, slow to the realization, tips of his fingers pushing against Alexander’s hips as he spoke. “John and I share a bed,” Alexander started, but John piped in with the rest, “But, man, Thomas, don’t sweat it, it’s huge! There isn’t room for barely anything else except for a nightstand on one side. It’s not like that, you heard the poem, Tom.” “It’s a one bedroom apartment,” Thomas reasoned out loud and John and Alexander nodded in unison, John out of relief and Alexander verifying Thomas’ statement.

Wild curls falling in his face, Thomas smiled down at Alexander, “Show me the way,” smirking over to John, he’d take their word for it. Crossing the short distance over to the bedroom, Thomas hadn’t realized how tired he was until he caught sight of the bed. “I’ll get you a t-shirt and John has some basketball shorts in the dryer, I’ll be right back,” Alexander said, inviting Thomas to sit down on the bed. Sitting down, Thomas linked hands with Alexander before he could turn to retrieve the clothes and smiled lazily, “Thank you.” Sharing one more kiss before going on his way, Alexander returned to Thomas already having fallen asleep. T-shirt and gym shorts clutched to his chest, Alexander shook his head with a quiet laugh and set the clothes down on the nightstand, gently draping the sheet that had been piled up at the end of the bed around Thomas then laying down beside him, switching off the light.


	16. Chapter 16

ahh I just wanted to post an update: that, sorry for the break in between chapters when, before, I was posting pretty much every other day or so, but a new chapter should be up soon! thanks!


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